Monsters and Pirates: Hunting Hear's Desire
by Madam Ionah
Summary: Sequel to Fog of Shadow and Discontent. Warning: contains scenes of Murder, profanity, and sexual content. Enjoy and please let me know what you think. I can only improve if you tell me how.
1. Chapter 1

By the first rays of dawn, Flinn was already on the first mail boat that would bring him to Monster Island. He knew he could have used the Aurora, but could not bring himself to ask his friends to sail with him, not after they have just returned from Candle Cove. He left a note for both his first mate and his grandfather to let them know where he was heading. On the boat, his heartbeat quickened with every island closer he came to her.

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The welcome home was not quite, what she had imagined. As expected, when she knocked on the door to her old, stone, mansion home the live-in housemaid Ellie and her little sister Nana, both half cat and half human monsters, greeted her with a warm and loving embrace. Nana immediately wanting to know where in the world Alisea had traveled and what she did. "Did you engage in any amazing battles?" asked Nana, swinging her hand back and forth, as if she were holding a sword.

"Yes I have, but may I tell you after I have seen my father?"

"What brings you back here anyway? If I were you I would have stayed away." Added the younger cat girl with a smirk and leaned against the dark wood door frame

Alisea smiled at her childhood friend, "A long story that I would rather not go into right now, all I can tell you now is that I discovered that the job of a captain is not for me. Now, may I please speak with my father?"

"Alisea," Ellie placed a comforting hand on the young woman's shoulder, "I must warn you; your father has been bitter cold since the day you left."

"Yeah, he has been pretty angry at you. He would not even open any of the letters you have sent. He was mean about it too, he could have given them to Ellie and me, but he burned them instead," added Nana, honest as always.

"I figured he had done something like that after I did not get a letter from here in over a year. I nevertheless, wish to speak with him. After all, I am his only child, how angry can be too with me after such a long time?" Taking a deep breath, Alisea walked past her friends and into the gloomy familiar house she use to share with them and her father. Inside the entry hall, memories overwhelmed her. She remembered being a little girl, a young teen, and the night she left; never had there been laughter within these walls as long as she could remember. Her father never told her stories, never encouraged her to follow her dream, and never said one good thing about her; if it had not been for Ellie and Nana, she thinks she would have never left the island. She did not stop walking until she reached the entry to the living room, the only place she could ever remember seeing her father. Knowing that knocking would not yield a reply, she quietly opened the door to confront her father. As expected, her father sat as his wicker chair in front of the lit fireplace, his eyes cast to an oil painting hanging above the mantelpiece. The painting was of her mother. "Father, I have come home." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Leave, you are not welcomed here." He keeps his eyes on the painting as he has been doing since the day his beloved wife died.

"Father, please, I am your daughter; you cannot still be holding a grudge because I left?" Alisea had hoped for a different outcome that her father would forgive her and accept her back into his home. Now, she could feel her eyes welling with tears.

"I have no daughter." Replied Captain Windjackle, anger growing in his voice and his features growing jagged the longer Alisea stood in his presence.

"Father-"

"I told you what would happen once you stepped one foot off this island. You ignored my warning. Now leave before I have the authorities come here and remove you." He growled. It is then clear to Alisea that her hopes of reconnecting with her father have died. Without anything to hold on to, she rushed out, back to the front door where Ellie catches her. Unable to hold back her tears, she sobs into her friend's shoulder. After a while, Alisea's sobs die down and she is able to stand on her own again. "Where do I go now?" asked Alisea, confronted with the realization that she has no place in the world.

"Nana, get the box under my bed and hurry." Commanded Ellie, still holding on to the girl she helped raise since she was a baby. Within a minute, Nana was back with a suitcase in her hands. Without hesitations, she shoves the case into Alisea's arms. "Here in money and clothes; it is all I can give you. If I were you, I would leave and find a new home and family."

"What, I cannot accept this?" shocked, Alisea was aware of how long Ellie had been saving her money, remembering the young cat monster mentioning about leaving her father with Nana and finding another place to live.

"Ellie and I will always find a way, but you need this more than us." Said Nana, giving her friend a tight hug before giving her a gentle push. "Now go until you can go no further. You are a tough girl, you will make it big in this world."

Feeling numb and incapable of response, Alisea gives the two cat sisters a final hug, before grabbing hold of the suitcase and running back down the path she came from.

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By the time the boat reached the island in at noon, Flinn's heart was racing faster than a galloping horse, his knees felt weak, and the injured one burned slightly as he stepped foot on the red sandstone beach of Monster Island. He remembered a general layout of the island from conversations with Alisea and headed in the direction he thought would lead him on the right path. On the way, Flinn asked a passerby, an elderly raven monster if he was on the right path and the monster nodded 'yes'. Now more confident than before, Flinn quickened his pace, following the single footpath to where Alisea came from. He began to wonder what he should say to her. Should he ask her for forgiveness for letting her go, should he scold her for leaving him and breaking his heart, should he just drop to his knee and propose? Flinn pulled out the small, golden ring and looked at it, would he even have the strength to ask her? There was a lingering feeling of fear, fear that she would say 'no' to him. His pace slowed when he saw the building before him. It was a two-story stone manor, complete with stonewall protecting it. At first, he wondered if, he had taken a wrong turn, as he could not remember Alisea mentioning growing up in a manor, but he had followed the path she had told him and it never branched off. Taking a deep breath, he steadied his nerves, walked past the gate, and knocked on the dark wood door. After a minute, the door slightly opened and the face of a young, human cat monster came into view. He cleared his throat, "Hello, does Captain Windjackle live here?" he silently cursed at himself for the tremor in his voice.

"Yes, the captain lives here, but he is not taking in any visitors. He is in a bad mood so come back another time." Her voice was monotone as if she has given that message to everyone who ever showed his or her face here. Just as she was going to close the door, Flinn put his foot in its' way.

"I am not here for the captain. My name is Flinn Triton; I am a schoolmate of his daughter Alisea." He quickly pulled out the small golden ring and held it up in view of the young maid. "I am here to propose to her." He could hardly believe what he was saying to this stranger, but he knew that honesty would bring him far. The reaction of the women caused his heart to flutter. He watched the young maid fully open the door, her fist to her mouth, and sinking to the floor. "What is the matter, she doesn't live here?"

"I am so sorry young man." The maid's voice was close to tears and her hands began to shake.

"Sorry, for what, is she hurt?" Flinn could feel the fear in his chest grow. It was the same fear he felt back on Candle Cove when Willow aimed the knife at his beloved. The women shook her head.

"Not anymore," tears flowed freely from the maid's eyes as if she were guilty of some horrible crime. "You missed her by one hour."


	2. Chapter 2

On her journey back to the harbor, Alisea could barely fight the tears welling up in her eyes and the lump growing in her throat. She wondered where she would go. She could not simply return to the academy; she had already said goodbye to everyone, given away her boat, and handed in all her papers that identified her as a student. Going back would be nearly impossible. There was the added fact, that Flinn was back at the academy and seeing him would simply hurt even more; she had set her heart on him, and he had kissed another. This was all over now; she was all on her own with a suitcase of money, a change of clothes, and an open world ahead.

Once at the harbor, now bustling with the midday business rush, Alisea stood before the Harbor Master's booth. The Harbor Master was an old, withered cat with a pair of thick spectacles sitting on his nose and a map islands and rout prices hanging behind him. "Where are we going?" he greeted Alisea with his usual question. His voice mirrored his outer appearance, old and tired. Alisea looked at the map behind him. She had 100 coins on her person, a small fortune, and a wall of choices. She could spend it all on one trip and treat herself to a tropical island on the other side of the earth, spend half a coin to the next island that was barely a stone's throw away, or she could go in between and spend the rest on building a life for herself. She recognized a few of the islands from her time as a captain, but whose islands contained memories and memories were the last thing she needed. "Well, where is it?" asked the Harbor Master, slowly growing impatient with her. Alisea's eyes fell on an island she had always wished to go to but never had the time.

"I'll take a ride to Toranta." She forced confidence into her voice as she pointed to the island she would fantasize about with Nana, back when they were children.

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His heart sank to his knees when he realized just how close he came to hold her and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. "Why did she leave?" he asked more to himself then the maid. "This is her home. Why would she leave without having another refuge?"

"Her father threw her out." Was all the maid could respond with, finally able to regain her stance.

"What?" anger started to grow in his eyes. The fire in his eyes was surprising enough to cause the maid to take a step back from Flinn. "Where is he?" his voice was a low growl.

Against her better judgment, the maid pointed her finger down the hall to the living room, never taking her eyes off the young captain in front of her. "He is in there." She said in a shaky voice. Before she could stop him, Flinn rushed past her, down the hall, and bursts into the living room.

Flinn's eyes immediately fall onto the old man in the wicker chair and like a devil after a soul, he charged at the man. Without hesitation, he grabbed the old man by the front of his shirt and shook him. "You bastard, how dare you to throw her away like that?" he shrieked

Without a word, the captain began to stand. Flinn was startled when he realized how tall the man before him really was. Though he appeared small and frail when sitting in the wicker chair, when he stood, he easily towered over the younger captain. With one quick movement, Captain Windjackle punched Flinn in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and causing the young captain to fall to his knees before the older. "I assume you are talking about Alisea?" Flinn could not respond, the pain felt like a ram had just charged at him. The old captain regained his seat in the wicker chair; his eyes returned to the painting. "She is nothing but a stranger to me." He broke his gaze from the painting to look at the maid waiting at the door. "Ellie, take this young man out."

Just as Ellie reached Flinn, the young captain managed to lift his head up at the older man; he simply had to win this fight and if not physically, then with words. "You old bastard, you have no idea what you just threw away." To this, the old man did not respond. "I can see why she left your shriveled ass, I would not stay in a home with a living mummy like you." Again, no response. "When I find her, I will show her all the love and affection you could never give her. I will make happy." Finally, the old man replied.

"For all I care, you can keep her in a cage and use her as a breeder hen, now leave before I have Nana get the authorities." Ellie practically had to drag Flinn out of the living room, all the while whispering that fighting Captain Windjackle was not worth the effort. Once in the hall, Flinn vented his frustration to Ellie.

"How could someone talk that way about their own daughter?" he barely managed to stand from the pain in his stomach. "How could someone be so bent?"

"He cannot help it." Excused Ellie in a calm, the same she used to excuse the captain's actions to his own daughter. "He is a broken man, living off his reputation."

"That does not excuse what he said."

"No, that it does not, but it explains why."

"Then tell me, is he so messed up?"

"It is a long story and I only know what I do from living here. My sister and I were hired as a nanny and a playmate. The captain's wife Marnie was pregnant, her first child, and I needed a job to support my baby sister. My parents were on another island to try to make a living, and I needed money." Ellie then started to fidget with her apron. "A horrible fever plagued the island shortly after I started working for Marnie and as fate goes, she got sick. The captain was devastated at the thought of losing both his wife and unborn child, but Marnie pulled through and got better; she was still very weak, but she was getting better. Then, Alisea was born. Marnie was in labor for two days and when the baby finally came, the doctor couldn't make it." Ellie then stopped fidgeting and looked at Flinn. "Marnie died three days after Alisea was born; the doctor says that she died from exhaustion. The captain never recovered from the loss of his beloved wife; it nearly killed him. A month after Marnie's death, the captain settled in the wicker chair. He stays in there all day, looking at the painting of his wife. He could not stand looking at Alisea as she looked exactly like her mother. He made her promise to never leave him and warned her that if she did, she would not be welcomed back. You can guess the rest." Ellie then rested a hand on Flinn's shoulder. "To the captain, the last part of his wife died the day Alisea left and treating her like a stranger is the only way he is able to continue living."

Flinn's eyes started to tear up and he regretted ever yelling at the Oldman, now only able to imagine what it would be like to lose Alisea the way the captain lost Marnie. "It still does not excuse anything." He croaked out as Ellie lead him to the front door. Flinn now wished he had treated Alisea with more attention and affection. "Where do you think she could be?"

At this Ellie stopped, despite raising her, she had no idea where Alisea would go. A real mother probably would, but Ellie was far from being a mother; she was only seven when Alisea was born, but she had spent most of the time raising two children and holding a household to pay attention to their nonsense, but she knew someone who might know. "NANA!" with that, Ellie's little sister came running out of the kitchen, she stopped when she saw Flinn.

"Who is that?" her voice was a little cracked, obviously upset at having Alisea sent away.

"That does not matter right now, you and Alisea were the closest friends growing up, where would she go if she had no home?"

Nana only shrugged her shoulders. "She is a pirate, how should I know?"

"You two would talk for hours of fantasy adventures. Where would you go?" Ellie's tone began to grow desperate.

Nana thought hard for a minute, before looking up at Ellie with a worried expression. "We use to talk about going to an island not too far from here. I think the name was Toranta." Suddenly Ellie grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, We would spend days dreaming about building a life there. We never had the money, so the dream died."

Ellie turned to Flinn with a weak smile, "there you go, best we can do to help you."

Flinn immediately set out on his way back to the harbor, there was still a mild pain in his stomach and his knee felt like it was on fire, but he pushed that pain to the back of his mind. His only mission now was to get the rout for Toranta. He simply had to find her. For a moment he thought he was going out of his mind when he spotted the figure of his grandfather on the path ahead, but it was no mirage. Captain Triton's face was twisted with fury and rightfully so. He had almost lost his only grandson on an island of fog and now he set out to bring a rouge pirate back, for all he knew, Flinn was going out of his mind. "What do you think you are doing?" the old man hissed.

"I am going to find Alisea." Replied Flinn, trying to get past his grandfather, but Triton's reactions where quicker; the old captain roughly shook his grandson.

"Have you lost your mind?" he growled at his grandson and his grip tightened on his grandson's shirt.

"Yes, I have because I let the women I love leave without a fight!" Triton's grip softened and the heat in his face cooled down a little.

"You sure it is love? he asked in a shaky voice.

Flinn nodded his head and fought the tears welling in his eyes. "It has to be. Since the day I met her, she is always on my mind. Her smile makes me smile and when she is upset, all I can think of is how to cheer her up." Flinn reached into his pocket and showed the small treasure to his grandfather. "I even have this ring for her. I was going to ask her, but she left before-"

"Aren't you a little young?"

"We are both of age and I cannot think of anything else. I want to be with her and only her and I want to be with her as soon as possible. The maids at the manor told me that she went to Toranta, I know if I hurry that I can catch up with her."

"She does not want to be a captain or a pirate anymore. Your lifestyles would keep the two of you separated."

"I can get a job as a civilian. I do not want to sail the seas if she is not there, it simply feels empty without her." He hung his head in shame of having spilled all his pent-up emotions to his grandfather when it should have been her he said these things too. Captain Triton sighed, he knew better than to stand in the way of love. Gently, he took off his jacket and put it on his grandson's shoulders.

"I came here on the Maria, a small boat I bought. She is a small sailboat, big enough for one, and there are some food and money on it. Take it to find her." Flinn looked up at his grandfather in surprise.

"I cannot accept that-"

"Do not argue with me boy. You said you love her and she is on her way to another island. Take that damn boat, find her, and ask her. I would have said to get your friends, but then you showed me that ring. Proposals like that should be a private event. All I ask is that you sent letters to the academy to let us know of your progress. Now go." He gave his grandson a gentle push. Flinn only gave his grandfather a quick hug, barely enough of a 'thank you' before he ran to the harbor. Triton simply stood there on the path, smiling at the young man running away. What he needed now, was a good long chat with Captain Windjackle.


	3. Chapter 3

For Alisea, the boat ride to Toranta was uneventful; no one looked at her or even acknowledged her existence. As the sun lowered in the sky and the island slowly came into view, Alisea's mind raced with thoughts. Should Toranta be her new home and if so, what should she make of herself? She had a few talents; such as sewing and knotting pearl necklaces, but neither was good enough to start a business. She could bake, but only the basic things, so a job at a bakery would not be ideal. She did have enough for a small cottage, but after that, she would need an income; at least, she hoped she had enough since she did not know how much life in Toranta cost. If she was lucky, she could make it on money she has for a while, but if not, she could try to find another island. The island came closer and closer to view and Alisea's heartbeat quickened.

Finally, the boat docked and the plank was lowered and Alisea was one of the first civilians off the boat. The view was rather disappointing. As a child, she had imagined the streets filled with people and street vendors, the houses decorated with ribbons and flowers, and the smell of baked good and spices filled the air. Instead, the streets appeared vacant and dirty, the houses showed cracks and were plain looking, and the air smelled of dead fish and old wood; she continued walking in the hopes that it was just a quiet day.

The first place that appeared kept and clean, was an Inn with a sign that looked like an eagle swallowing a fish. The Sign read, THE KEEPER, and the noises from inside told her that she could find some food and a place to stay there. She had completely forgotten how hungry she was, she had not eaten at all that day. Her body ached for food and rest. Without much hesitation, she enters the inn. The inside smelled of old cooking grease and the air was heavy with pipe smoke, the tables looked greasy, and the dim lights helped little to illuminate the dining area. With a heavy sigh, she sat at the closest table and buried her head in her arms, the day could not get any worse. Soon a very heavyset waitress approached her. The women's and hair appeared every bit as greasy as the table. "What is it?" her voice was rough as if she treated herself to a brandy and a pipe every evening.

"Anything that is cheap and how much is a night here?" she looked up at the waitress, trying to appear more cheerful than she actually felt.

"I can get you a pork bread for three coins and a night can run you up to seven."

Alisea simply nodded her head and the waitress walked off. So life was expensive on Toranta and by the appearance of everything, life here would be bland and difficult. Toranta was not the place for her. Soon, the waitress returned with a small plate, a cup of water, and a key with a wooden number 6 hanging from it. The pork bread was just a slice of pork on bread; it tasted bland, greasy, and was cold; she only had half of it. When she left for her room, her clothes stuck to the table.

Her room was dim, bland, and smelled of mildew; with a heavy sigh, Alisea placed the suitcase on the shabby chair next to the bed, took off her jacket and shirt, and laid down on the lumpy mattress. She did not bother lighting a candle or crawling under the covers, she just wanted to close her eyes and forget. She wanted to cry, she should have cried; she had just thrown away everything she had worked hard for and now was homeless, but she only felt cold and numb.

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Though he sailed as quickly as he could, he only managed to reach the island after sundown. With the last remaining rays of dusk, he docked the Maria, paid the Harbor Master, and went on his search. He was not sure where to start, his mind raced, his heart galloped like a wild stallion, and his knee was on fire, but ignored it all; he had to find her. Clueless, he wondered the empty streets; a quick glance at his surrounding told him that she would have sought shelter the moment she arrived. Scanning the area for a hotel or Inn, his eyes spotted a sign, THE KEEPER; it appeared dingy and unkempt, but it was the next closest thing to shelter. Without hesitation, he entered it and immediately his lungs burned from the pipe smoke. Trying to appear normal, he sat at the next available table, hissing at the sensation of his knee relaxing; he gave it a sympathetic rub. Soon, the Inn's heavy set waitress appeared. "What are we having?"

"I'd like a cup of coffee." Answered Flinn, he was not hungry, the sight of the grease ridden establishment killed any appetite he had. Before the waitress could leave, he stopped her, "Excuse me, have you seen a young woman, slightly smaller than me, long brown hair, with a birthmark on the left side of her face? She should be dressed in a purple jacket."

"Sweetie, I don't look at people's faces. I only take their money and give them what they want. Besides, I see hundreds of people a day, your girl would not stand out." Then she left, leaving Flinn hanging his head in defeat. He knew she had to be on this island, he just had to find her; as his chest tightens with grief and his eyes began to fill with tears, he heard a familiar voice behind him. Before he could turn to face the voice, he felt someone wrap their arms around his shoulders and the scent of lilacs overwhelm him. It was Lillian

"Flinn, I am glad to see you, what are you doing here?" her voice sounded sweet and chipper. She took a seat next to him and smiled at him. Her pale blue eyes, curly blond hair, and pale complexion gave her the appearance of a living porcelain doll. It was clear to see, with her pearly white teeth, that she wore some rosy lipstick. He had to admit to himself that she was a very pretty girl, even the bandage around her head did not take away much of her beauty, but she simply was not for him. Being around her gave him an uncomfortable chill.

"I am just here, why are you here?" it felt off to Flinn that Lillian would be here, in this greasy hole in the middle of nowhere. At least Alisea was trying to run away and knew of this place from childhood, but Lillian lived on an isolated island all her life and should not know of this place.

"Glad you asked. Remember when I told you what I would do once I got off Candle Cove? Well, I did just that. I could not stand living a day longer in that Inn; the thought of having to go to the basement where Moma died just made me sick. So, I had her buried, sold the Inn to the highest bidder, and picked a random island to go to. Now here I am. I planned on buying a small home and have a business on the first floor and my living quarters in the second, then I'll plant all the roses and sunflowers I want. I'll have the biggest garden on the island." Her voice was high pitched and her enthusiasm felt too strong for the story, it made Flinn feel even more uncomfortable. Even Lillian's reason for leaving felt off; sure, death is a valid reason to leave, but he and everyone he knew grew up in a house where someone had died; plus the Inn was a family heirloom, selling it moments after inheriting it felt off. "So, why are you here and where are your friends?" she rested her head on her hands, ignoring the greasy table top and keeping Flinn in her sight.

"I am looking for-"

"Alisea?" she finished, Flinn felt startled as there were no clues to tell her why he was here. The uneasy feeling began to grow and he wanted to leave. Just then, the waitress returned and sat the cup of coffee in front of the young captain, telling him that it costs five coins; she eyed Lillian with a suspicious look, then left without taking another order. Apparently, even she felt off with Lillian around. Lillian never took her eyes off Flinn. "How did you know that I am looking for Alisea?" he tried to keep his voice steady and unsuspicious. She smiled back at him.

"A simple guess, I had a feeling that you liked here since the moment you arrived at the Inn, you were very worried about her when she was injured in that cave, and now you are sitting here all alone with a face that looks like three days of rain." She never stopped smiling, she then moved a little closer to Flinn, not much, but enough to be noticeable. Flinn froze at how observant she was; guessing that she relished her restored eyesight and took advantage of every minute of it. "Why are you looking for her?"

"She left because of a misunderstanding and I planned on proposing to her." He then showed her the small golden ring, hoping it would make some distance between him and Lillian. Her smile barely wavered as her eyes quickly moved between him and the ring, like a dog eyes a treat.

"What if she doesn't want to be found? I mean, this place is in the middle of nowhere."

"Well, I hope to persuade her otherwise; besides, she only left because of a misunderstanding." Part of him regretted showing her the ring; she now knew what he was after. It finally dawned o Flinn, why he felt off around her; it was her face. However, her mouth gave off a warm and inviting smile, her eyes showed nothing; no emotions or soul, as if they were the eyes of a doll.

Completely blank.

He wanted to tell himself that it was just the dim lights, but his instincts told him to get away. Without taking a single sip of the coffee he ordered, the put the money on the table and walked out, he simply had to get away from those blank eyes. Lillian did not skip a beat and followed him, her dainty hands clasped behind her. "Why are you leaving? I thought we were having a great conversation." Her voice sounded a little cracked as if her façade was beginning to fail her. Despite his upbringing, he did not reply, nor did he wait for her to catch up. "Hey, don't ignore me like this." Now she sounded slightly annoyed at him, but she still kept pace with him, staying only a few steps behind him. He continued to ignore her and he kept moving.

"WHAT MAKES HER SO FUCKING SPECIAL?" she yelled at him and this made Flinn stop for a moment. He had cracked her façade; he turned to face her, and an icy chill ran down his back. They stood under a street light and its wavy flam light cast eerie shadows across her face; her smile remained unchanged, but her eyes seemed to glow with anger. "What makes her so special for you?" her voice returned to sickly sweet. Flinn did not answer; he felt that saying the wrong worst might escalate the situation. "I left everything for you, Flinn." She started. "Unlike her, I love you. Why are you going after her when I am throwing myself at you? I bet that ring would fit me much better than it would fit her." She continued to smile and her eyes changed from angry to desperate. Flinn did not move when she took a step closer to him; gently she placed her hands on his chest, he hoped she could not feel how fast his heart raced. "I know I can make you happy. Unlike her, I would never run away from you." She smiled at him, starting to rise onto her toes to kiss him. Overwhelmed by the stench of lilacs and wanting nothing more than to get away, Flinn did the only logical thing. He slammed his forehead as hard as he could into Lillian's face, causing her to hit the ground with a groan. Ignoring the pain and the injured women on the ground before him, Flinn turned around and ran as fast as his legs could carry him; behind him, he could hear her yelling.

"Flinn. Flinn come back."

He never turned around and from what he could hear, she was not following him. He climbed onto the Maria and barricaded himself below deck. He knew it was foolish to head straight for the ship, but at least he felt safe there and he hoped she had not followed him. Despite the pain and adrenaline rush, Flinn felt tired; he tried to stay awake and propped up a chair against the barricade, thinking that she could not sneak up on him if he protected the only entry. He mentally kicked himself when he realized that he had essentially trapped himself, but soon his eyes fell shut and his consciousness drifted away.

That night would be the first night that he dreamt of his beloved Alisea.


	4. Chapter 4

That morning, Alisea awoke with a sore and aching back, the hard and lumpy mattress had done little to help her; if anything, it might have taken years off her life, at least that what she felt like. Ignoring her back, she got up, washed off the grimy feeling the bed had given her, and got dressed; after yesterday's dinner, there was no way she could wear her shirt and jacket again until they had been cooked. She quietly thanked her lucky stars that Ellie's clothes fit her. A simple purple skirt, lavender shirt, white apocrine, and cream colored head scarf; a quick glance in the full-length mirror hanging from the door, confirmed her thoughts, she now looked like a completely normal civilian. The back pain having killed her appetite, she simply approached the waitress from yesterday. "What are my dos?"

"No breakfast?"

"Nope, I just want to get off this island."

"You, me, and everyone else. Your tab is seven coins."

Without another word, she paid her bills and left for the Harbor Master; on her way, she picked up a familiar scent. Lilacs. It was faint, but she knew it from somewhere; she could not see any lilac trees around and she was sure that it was not the season for them, but she simply wrote it off as someone's perfume. The closer she came to the harbor, the fainter the scent became, until the only thing in the air, was the smell of sea salt and dead fish. As she observed the expensive journey prices, the Harbor Master impatiently tapped her long, crooked fingers. "Any day now honey." The old crone groaned as if Alisea were holding up a booming business when Alisea was the only customer nearby.

"I'll take your cheapest trip."

"That would take you to Mendocino; it costs ya five coins, just go to the ship called Morana and you'll be set." Again, Alisea paid her bill and left; she knew nothing of Mendocino, but anything would be better than this greasy pile of trashed called Toranta. Alisea wanted to feel upset that her dream of Toranta had died, but she could not, she wanted to be angry or sad or at least feel some form of melancholy, but she only felt numb.

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That morning, Flinn woke up with an aching back and a freshly broken heart; he wished he could return to his dream of Alisea. It was simple, just the two of them sitting on a bench staring out at a setting sun, but at least he was close to her; now he was alone again. No, he was not completely alone, the scent of lilacs hung strong in the air. A sharp sense of dread filled Flinn's chest as he imagined Lillian waiting for him outside is barricaded cabin door, but he had to get out and search for Alisea. With a galloping heart, he removed the furniture that blocked the door; his hands shaking as he worked. Finally, the only thing between him and the outside world was the flimsy cabin door; with a shaking hand, he took hold and tore it open, fully expecting to see Lillian's smiling face on the other side, but there was no one. He looked around frantically, knowing that the scent had to have come from somewhere close by, but he saw no one and soon the smell of lilacs dissipated. Flinn shook his head, thinking that his sleep-deprived mind had imagined everything; it was the only explanations for the smell being so strong yet yield no source. Taking a few breaths to calm his racing heart, Flinn made his way back to, THE KEEPER, since it was the first Inn within walking distance of the harbor; making it the perfect place to start his search.

The Inn was as dingy and greasy during the day as it was at night; some of the patrons even appeared in the same place as yesterday, as if rooted to their seats. Quickly he found the heavyset waitress from the previous night. "Ma'am, excuse me, but you served me yesterday." The middle-aged women looked at him in annoyance.

"Yeah, I remember you; you were the guy that ordered a coffee and had none of it." Her voice mimicked the glare in her eyes and she tried to huff past him, seeking to find other work to do. "If you think I kept it waiting for you, you are sorely mistaking."

"No, that is not why I am here. I asked you yesterday if you saw a woman."

"If you mean that pretty doll, no I haven't seen her since she followed you out like a faithful puppy." Again she tried to move past him, but he blocked her; causing a few of the patrons to turn their heads towards him.

"No, I do not mean her. I described her to you. Please, just try to remember if you saw her. She is at my height, long brown hair, brown eyes, she had a birthmark on her upper lip, heart-shaped face-"

"Showed up in a purple vest and suitcase?" she interrupted; Flinn bit his tong to keep from hurling a slew of insults at the women. Clearly, she had seen his Alisea the previous night, but simply did not care enough to tell him; if it had not been for this woman, he would already have Alisea in his arms.

"Yes, please tell me if you saw her and know where she went." He took hold of the waitress's broad shoulders, "It is important that you tell me where she is." He just then realized that he must appear like a complete loon to the waitress; quickly he released the women's shoulders and excused himself. Sheepishly, he looked at the ground. "Please, she is near and dear to my heart; I simply have to find her." The waitress's expression softened a little.

"She left this morning for the harbor; said she had to get off this island. If you are lucky, you might still catch her." He thanked her profusely before bolting out the door and running at a lightning speed towards the harbor, leaving the waitress to mutter to herself, "Wish I had a love-sick Romeo chasing after me." Ignoring the pain burning in his knee, he ran as if the devil were upon him to the Harbor Master's booth, thanking the gods that there was no line; now out of breath, he asked the old woman.

"Ma'am, have you seen a young woman about my height, long brown hair, brown eyes, with a birthmark on her upper lip?" he leaned against the booth for support, taking some weight off his burning knee. The Harbor Master glared up at him from her book and shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps you haven't heard me; I am looking for someone important."

"Maybe I have seen her, maybe I haven't; I am just a harbor master and see hundreds of people every day." At this, Flinn felt something within him unwind and a pressure growing in his head; he was sure this woman knew whom he was talking about, but did not care enough, just like the waitress. With growing impatience, he asked her again, and again she only shrugged her shoulders. "Listen, kid, everyone looks the same to me." At this, something within Flinn snapped and he reached over the counter to grab the woman by her scrawny old neck.

"Listen here you old bat, I need to find her. Now tell me where she went!" he shook the old woman as he spoke, thinking that might jog her memory. He began to grow tired and angry at the world's indifference to his plight; he simply wanted to find the love of his life, a simple task that would already be over if it were not for people like the old bat in his grasp. It was not until he heard her croaking gasps that he released her. "I am sorry ma'am; I just really need to find her."

The Harbor Master rubbed her neck and gasped for air, "Alright, I did see her. She asked for the cheapest route and I sent her to Mendocino on the Morana. It left two hours ago." Flinn thanked the woman and ran back to his ship; his spirits lifted at the prospect of catching up to her on the next island. Before the Harbor Master had a chance to alert the authorities, Flinn had already set sails for Mendocino; his never-resting heart felt as though it were about to burst out of his chest. He could just feel how close he was to her; with the Maria, he could easily make up the two-hour difference and if the winds were right, he might just make it before the Morana docked.

XXXXX

The Morana reached Mendocino around noon and by then Alisea felt exhausted; the previous night did little to replenish her energy, her stomach demanded nourishment, and the scorching midday sun was beating down on her. The streets of Mendocino were buzzing with activity; hundreds of merchants, vendors, and customers were rushing around and shouting their available goods for sale. The air was rich with the scent of spices, flowers, animal feed, sweat, and sea salt; with its' seemingly endless twisting roads and venues, it was easy to think of getting lost. At least it isn't Toranta. Thought Alisea, as she made her way off the boat, begrudgingly carrying the suitcase with her; with her exhaustion, it felt as heavy as a ton of bricks. She stopped for a moment, thinking she heard someone call her name, but she quickly wrote it off as the island was full of sounds; she must have simply misheard it.

After a few minutes of walking around the inner harbor, Alisea quickly realized that Mendocino was even more expensive than Toranta; this was probably due to the enormous amounts of trade the small island experiences on a daily basis. Despite the costs and her fatigue, she enjoyed her stroll through the busy market; the simple sight of busy people happily going about their business was enough to lift her spirits. Despite the cost, she stopped to buy an apple from an old woman, her stomach painfully demanding sustenance. Again, she heard her name, but looking around yield no source; surely, it must be a common name in Mendocino. Continuing her walk, she finally came across an Inn that was not fully crowded. A huge, dark tanned man that gave her a quick and friendly smirk as she walked past him guarded the entrance to the Inn, called LAZY TURTLE. The inside was shady and cool, a welcome relief from the heat outside; soon, she was settled at a table by a window, with a tall glass of cold tea and a raspberry scone. Though beautifully busy, Mendocino felt more like a vacation island, than one she would settle down in.

XXXXX

Despite his high spirits, Flinn's body felt the need for rest and nourishment; his injured knee especially, demanded he sits down. Underdeck, he found a few rations and a few bottles of dark colored liquor; this did not surprise him since his grandfather often used it was medicine against stomachaches and other bodily ailments. If it helped against stomachache, then it might help against my knee pain, thought Flinn as he removed the cork, and hesitantly smelled the dark liquid; it smelled of strawberries and cherries. Surely, something this sweet-smelling could not do him much harm; still hesitant, he took a healthy sip from the bottle. The dark liquid tasted sweet and burned its way down, making Flinn shutter involuntarily; if it did work, it would not be medicine he would enjoy taking. Soon enough, the liquor worked its' magic and the pain in his knee numbed; in addition, he began to feel warm and his mind felt fuzzy. Deciding that the liquor was not too bad for him, he managed to finish almost half the bottle by the time noon came around and Mendocino came into view; it was clear that the Morana had just docked when he came closer. With the world slightly spinning around him, and the heat adding to the effects of the liquor, Flinn jumped onto the docks and rushed past a crowd of people to reach the Morana; he knew she had to be on that boat. Once on deck, he shouts her name at the top of his lungs, but his voice is easily drowned out but the heavily populated harbor market. Ignoring the captain calling him a loony bloke, he scans the crowd before him in the hopes of spotting her amongst the crowd. She must be in the market, If she is not on the boat, she has to be there; he thought as he stumbled off the boat. His mind and body seemed separated as he stumbled his way through the harbor market; more often than not, he would either stumble over his own feet or run into people who would look at him in surprise and disgust. The sun beat down on his head, the two jackets warmed his body, and the liquor began to churn his empty stomach; finally needing rest, he leaned against a building corner, sweat beating down his brow and his vision distorted; if he did not know better, we would have thought to be gravely ill. Blinking the sweat from his eyes, he surveyed his surrounding, few people looking his way as if the sight of a drunken man being daily ongoings. The feeling of utter hopelessness crept closer and closer with each passing moment that he could not find her; just as be begun to fear to have lost her, his eyes fell upon her, she was buying an apple from an elderly woman. Despite the dress and head scarf, he knew it was her. Trying to approach her, he found his limbs give out on him and he ended hitting the ground; out of desperation, he called out her name.

There, she reacted to his call; despite the heavy foot traffic, his beloved reacted to his voice. His heart quickly sank when he saw her walk away, clearly not having seen him. No, she heard me; I know she heard me, why is she walking away? Against the odds, he forced his numb limbs to work and he stumbled after her, but barely managed to keep up with her sober steps. A smile spread across his drying lips when he saw her enter an establishment; clearly, she had heard him and wanted him to follow her. Solley focused on following his beloved, that he never even saw the large guard at the entrance of the Inn.

"Wow there buddy, where are we going?" asked the guard as he stepped in Flinn's path, startling the young captain.

"I have to follow her." Is what he tried to say, but his numb lips refused to work. Realizing his nonsensible muttering, he again attempted to tell the guard his predicament, but he barely managed to produce a single coherent word. In his frustration, his eyes filled with tears and he pulled at his hair. Concerned, but still needing to fulfill his job, the guard pushed Flinn away.

"Listen, kid, you are three sheets through the wind. Come back when you are sober." At his, Flinn began to panic; he began to tear out strands of his hair. No, he had to get to her now, again he tried to walk past the guard, and again he is pushed away. "Listen here, try that again and you'll be seeing stars." Ignoring this, Flinn again attempted to move past the guard; this time, re received a hit to the skull. Hitting the ground, he did indeed see stars. Finally giving up, he curled up and tried to keep from sobbing. Why was the world so difficult towards him; his simple goal was to retrieve his beloved. Suddenly he heard someone stop and approach him; hesitantly, he looked up and saw a friendly old couple. The man wore a simple brown suit and a thick, bushy mustache while his wife wore an even simpler black dress with accompanying white apron and bonnet.

"Hello young fellow, down on your luck?" asked the elderly man full of concern.


	5. Chapter 5

Incapable of speaking or thinking, Flinn's only reaction to the elderly man's question was to stare at him in bewilderment. Anerley, the elderly woman turned to the guard and shook her bony finger at him. "I thought you were better than this Tom." Her voice was light, but firm like that of a kindly schoolteacher. "Can't you see this young man is ill?"

"Mrs. Erigby, This young man is drunk and acting disorderly. I warned him and he did not listen." Replied the man with is massive arms crossed, clearly unapologetic of his actions. Meanwhile, Mr. Erigby aided Flinn to his feet; while doing so, he quickly noted the heat of the young man's forehead.

"This young man is about to keel over of a heat stroke, Come Ethel, if Tom won't help him, than we will." With that, the elderly coup began to carry Flinn away from the Inn; Flinn was too confused and nauseous to fight back. Just as they were about to leave, Tom took hold of Ethel's shoulder. "Mrs. Erigby, I would not advise you to take this man home with you. This is a case for the authorities."

"Tom, you are a good man, but there is no need to be this untrusting of this young man. Besides, Edgar and I know how to take care of ourselves."

"But what about Cynthia, surely you don't want her health at risk? Please, leave him here and let me get the police. He can sober out in a cell." At this, Ethel only shook her head

"You know how rough the police are, the last thing this poor man needs is a black eye and broken bone." With that, Ethel left Tom standing at his position by the Inn. Soon enough, Flinn found himself in a cool and comfortably outfitted wooden cabin. The shade and quiet felt soothing to Flinn; finally, life was giving him a chance to breath. With his eyes closed, he had not even noticed the elderly couple gathering towels and a bowl filled with cold well water.

"Young man, what would possess you to get toasted on a dead-dog day such as this?" asked Edgar, leading Flinn to take a seat at the kitchen table. Still too drunk to answer, Flinn only shrugged his shoulders; even if he were sober, he might not have been able to answer this question; he had never been drunk before. Ethel gently applied a cool, soaked towel to Flinn's throbbing forehead. He had not even noticed the small bump growing from where Tom had hit him. The chilled towel felt heavenly. Suddenly, he heard a voice that belonged to neither Edgar nor Ethel; sounding young and feminine, Flinn deduced in his drunken state that his must be Cynthia.

"Grant's, why are you two always picking up these stranger?" she sounded angry and stressed, obviously, Cynthia does not share the same brand of openness than her grandparents. Flinn ignored her, sure, she had every right to be upset, but the pain and nausea prevented him from leaving the chair, if she really wants him gone, she could just move him herself. Luckily, Edgar still had a voice in this house.

"Cynthia, the Lord gave us open hearts so we may share our kindness with others. This young man needed aid and neither I nor your grandmother were going to be are Levites."

"He also gave us judgment and the ability to protect ourselves from wild beasts."

"A man is no beast!"

"ENOUGH!" interjected Ethel while taking the wet cloth from Flinn's head to cool it. "The two of you can argue outside if you must. With the cloth removed, Flinn managed to open his eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of Cynthia. She appeared around his age, with a long red braid, freckles, glasses, and the same black and white cloths as her grandparents.

"I am not dangerous." He managed to croak out in a weak voice; apparently, this caught his hosts off guard. "I am trying to get my girlfriend back."

"Oh my dear…is she at the Inn, is that why you were there?" asked Ethel in a kind and tender voice; clearly, she had comforted people like this before. It worked to keep Flinn calm as the young captain could already feel a lump growing in his throat.

This explains the drunkenness. What were you planning on young man, to throw your drunken self at her in hopes she would pity you?" added Edgar; he understood searching for a women, what he could not understand was getting drunk while doing so. Flinn had to admit, Edgar was right, but he had not intentionally gotten drunk; he simply misjudged how much he could drink.

"I did not know you could get drunk off of liquor; I have never had any. I am sorry."

"You should apologize to poor Tom, I snapped at the poor boy because of your foolishness." Ethel's voice remained calm and soothing, yet grew the firmness of a parent. The more sober Flinn became, the more idiotic his action seemed to him. Ethel was right, Tom was simply doing his job; though a small part of him still wished, Tom had not punched him as the bump began to hurt. "Why were you trying to get her back?" the old woman's question caught him off guard.

"It was a misunderstanding that caused her to leave me. She thinks I love another girl, but I don't, I was just polite to her" then Flinn showed his hosts the ring, "I was going to propose, but you know the rest of the story." The sight of the ring earned Flinn a gasp from the elderly woman. Edgar, on the other hand, sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes; he was not as much of a romantic as his wife was. This was one, of the many, reasons why he loved Ethel. She completed him and Edgar speculated that this was the same case with the young man in his kitchen.

"Want me to head back the Inn and find her for you?" asked Edgar with a raised eyebrow; he was unsure what this young stranger would answer. Surely, a drunk and beaten sight would not ideal for a proposal. Luckily, Flinn thought the same as the old man, simply shaking his head. _I don't want her pressured into anything_ , he thought to himself as he felt the effects of the alcohol wain on him and the bump of his head grow, by now, it was half the size of a hen's egg and caused part of his face to turn numb. By this point, dusk had begun to settle upon the island and Mendocino's nightlife began to awake. The open stands closed, the pubs opened their doors wide, and the streetlights bathed the streets in a warm golden glow; from a distance away, Mendocino at night appears speckled with gold. Flinn tried to leave and thank his hosts, but both Edgar and Ethel insisted he stay for the night since his speech was still slurred and the hit to his head knocked off his balance; despite the salve Ethel put on his injured head, the traumatized area turned blue and purple. To his surprise, even Cynthia insisted he stay and offered him some soup for dinner. After their small dinner of tomato soup and bread, the elderly Edgar and Ethel excused themselves for bed; their sleeping quarters were upstairs along with Cynthia's room. "Your grandparents are very kind people."

"Yeah, but their kindness had been abused several times in the past. I apologize if I came off as rude and paranoid. It is just that someone has to protect them, if they won't protect themselves. So, this girl of yours, is she real?" Clearly, Cynthia still held some suspicions, but this did not bother Flinn. If he were in Cynthia's shoes, he too would be suspicious; especially on an island as heavily trafficked as Mendocino; anything could, and has, happened on this island.

"Yes, we were school mates and I have had feelings for her since the day I met her. For a while, our relationship was in a grey area; she was from a love-scares home and I grew up with the idea of waiting until you have the funds to support a family, so we never officially dated. Unfortunately, I also grew up to be a "gentleman" to anyone. I think she suspected I had fallen for another girl, simply because I showed that girl kindness and support. I cannot blame her though, I went to her house first to search for her and found out just how scares affection and warmth was. If I had paid more attention to her, perhaps I would not be here right now."

"How do you know she is here on Mendocino?"

"I followed the memory of the Harbor Masters. I actually managed to find her, but you see where I am now."

"You would not be here, if you had not gotten drunk." At this, she crossed her arms as if ready to scold him. Flinn only sheepishly smiled.

"My grandfather said it was medicine. I swear I did not know you could get drunk from liquor. Even if I knew, it tasted sweet; how could anything sweet tasting is bad for you?"

"Dolls-Eyes are sweet too, but they stop your heart if you eat them," she took a deep breath before would say something she would regret, "Well, at least you know better now. I recommend you get some rest. I would offer you a bed, but I can only offer you a couch. I have a job to attend to tomorrow so you cannot have mine." Flinn understood, in fact, he had not even planned to stay the night since he had a perfectly good boat at the harbor. He accepted and soon enough he is lying on an old, blanket-covered couch; it felt flat and warn, but comfortable never the less. With a friendly pat to the head, she excused herself and went to bed. Soon, the busy sounds of the Mendocino nightlife faded from his consciousness and he fell into peaceful slumber.

Again, he dreamt of Alisea.

XXXXX

In the dream, they sat on a bench back at the academy and were watching a sunset. He had his arm around her and held her close; he could feel her head resting on his shoulder. She smelled sweet like flowers. "It is beautiful here, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I am glad you found me. I am so sorry I caused you so much grief. I honestly thought you and Lill-"

"I understand and I should apologize to you. I should have been there for you back at Candle Cove." He interrupted, it simply felt wrong to have her apologize, especially since none of this mattered now; he had her in his arms and that was all that mattered to him now. "I love you Alisea." He could feel her move her head from his shoulder to face him; he tried to face her, but the dream would not allow this. If he turned his head, his eyes would force themselves shut; as if the simple task of moving sapped him of all his energy. Though he wanted to face her and fully see her, he accepted the terms of his dream and faced her with his eyes closed.

"I love you too, Flinn." She giggled, it sounded like soft bells to him. It was the first time he heard her giggle in a longtime. It made him smile. Slowly and carefully, she entwined their fingers; for some reason, her hands felt hot. Perhaps she was having a slight fever or she was nervous. Content with having her by his side, he leaned his forehead against her's. "Why did we wait so long to say those words to each other?"

"I do not know and I regret not telling you sooner." He replied, still smiling at her. Gently, he dared to kiss her, his heart raced like that of a mad horse as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him in for a deeper kiss. Now, only they existed on this island; they, the bench, and the sunset.

XXXXX

His eyes suddenly tore open and his heart sank when the dream ended. _Why did I wake up_? He asked himself. From the window by the couch, he could tell it was barely dawn; it was a long time before anyone would usually wake up. His head throbbed and his nose burned, but not from the trauma to his head. There was something in the air; in his half-asleep state, he could not place the smell, but he knew it from somewhere. The more he woke up, the more nauseating the smell became; it was everywhere and it hung in the air like a heavy blanket. _What is this smell?_ It reminded him of copper, salt, and honey.

Copper, salt, and honey. Finally, it hit him what that smell was and why it was so familiar to him.

It was blood.


	6. Chapter 6

Flinn panicked, why could I smell blood for no reason? He touches his face, but it was not his nose bleeding; the smell came from all around him. With his eyes adapted to the dark, he scanned his area, but nothing was out of place. He touches his face again; it simply had to be a nosebleed. Suddenly, he noticed that is hand was damp and smelled funny. His heart froze when he saw blood caked all over his hands; it was on his palms, his knuckles, under his nails, and on the sleeves of his green shirt; it appeared as if he had dug his hands into a fresh carcass. He observing his blood covered hands, he saw no source of the blood nor did he feel any pain; it could not be his blood. If it was not his, then where did it come from? Just as he was about to write it off as a nasty prank, he heard a dripping sound; it came from behind the couch.

Drip. Drip. Drip

Afraid of what he might find Flinn carefully turned around and looked at the surrounding behind the couch; he now hated that the old couple had it free standing instead of against a wall. For a moment, nothing happened and nothing was out of place; the seemed no reason for the sound. Then again, he heard it.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

His eyes followed where his ears heard it; just behind the couch, the ceiling leaked. Flinn could feel his heart freeze, in the darkroom, the liquid dripping from the ceiling appeared to be oil, but he knew better; the blood on his hands had to have come from somewhere. He forced himself up the stairs, afraid of what he might find; part of him wanted to run, part of him wanted to see if he could help, and a third party wanted to know whose blood it was that caked his hands. The first room on the second floor belonged to the elderly couple; he could hear them silently snoring. To this, his heart drops and his stomach clenches; hoping this to be a horrible twist in his dream, he continued to the next room, the one belonging to Cynthia. The door slightly ajar, he prayed that she would be alright; she was a normal girl concerned with her family and her grandparents needed her, she had to be alright. With a knot in his throat, he opened the door wide.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. There, on the center of the floor, lay Cynthia's lifeless body. Lying on her stomach, her detached head gazed up at him with terror-filled eyes; her bloody mouth gaped in a silent scream, her entrails lay spread around her body, and pinning her body to the ground was his sword. Mindlessly, his hand reached for his sheath to confirm what he already knew. His head spinning, heart thundering against his ribcage, and stomach churning, Flinn fell to his knees before the body and lost his stomach. Shaking, his gaze returned to Cynthia and a single word came to his mind; the eternal question. Why?

For a while, he kneeled before the remains of this human temple with this simple question. Obviously, he is the killer; Cynthia's blood stained his hands and his blade jutted out of her cold torso. Aimlessly, he worked for his escape; he knew the moment Ethel and Edgar awoke, that he would be dead. He whipped the blood off his sword and hands with the poor girl's bed sheets the best he could before racing out the house as quietly as he could, making sure to close Cynthia's door in the process to buy him extra time. Walking towards the Inn from yesterday, he used the empty streets to ensure his grandfather's dark blue jacket hid his bloody sleeves.

XXXXX

Alisea did not even stay the night on Mendocino, it would have simply cost too much. Instead, she opted for the night boat to the next cheapest trip, the Cleo to Cina. Like Mendocino, she knew nothing about Cina other than the price there were six coins. The Cleo, being an unsteady merchant ship, kept Alisea up all night as it tossed and turned upon the sea. Even if the waters had been calm, Alisea felt she would not have found sleep anyway. The hammock felt itchy and rough against her skin, the passenger below her reeked of garlic, and the snores of the passenger above her could wake the dead. In the early morning hours, before the first rays of dawn, she carefully crept out of her hammock and wandered on deck with her suitcase in hand. In the distance, she could see the outline of Cina, her mind began to wonder what life might be like, and she secretly hoped life would be a little cheaper than Mendocino.

By morning, the Cleo reached the harbor of Cina; Alisea's heart sank and she wished she had asked the Harbor Master back on Mendocino about Cina. This island was one huge brothel. Ladies and gentlemen of the private trade stood at the harbor or leaned out of their windows, waving at their potential customers. Seeing this, Alisea wanted nothing more than to stay on the Cleo, but the ship is scheduled to stay in Cina until the end of the week; the prospect of an entire week on a brothel island felt like a nightmare in the making to her. Begrudgingly, she left the safety of the Cleo and set foot on the brothel island with her head down and eyes set to the ground, her hands holding the suitcase tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. Her first instinct was to go to the Harbor Master's booth, but, unfortunately, it was empty. With a heavy sigh and a growling stomach, she made her way deeper into the inner harbor area, the plan is to grab a bite to eat and then return to the booth. At every turn, a scantily clad character would wave, whistle, or call out at her to grab her attention; she could not blame them for trying to advertise their goods, but Alisea wanted nothing more than to run. After several minutes of being catcalled and trying to avoid catching anyone's attention, she made it to a building where there was not some character waving at passerby's. Ignoring the name, she entered and sat quietly in the next available seat, keeping her head down; she let out a silent prayer that her stay on Cina would not be too long. Thankfully, the waiter came quickly and she ordered, unfortunately she caught someone's attention. A young, pale-skinned man approached her and leaned against her table to; with a bare chest and his black hair swooping down to cover his right eye, he appeared like an eccentric French mime. "Hello there young lady, can't say I have seen you around here."

Alisea did not reply and simply kept her head down; hoping the man would get the hint that she was not interested. The man only lowered his head closer to her. "My name is Kenneth, what is yours?" again, Alisea did not acknowledge him, but kept her head down, even as she received her order of water and vegetable soup. Not one to give up, Kenneth took the free seat next to her. Now at an equal level with Alisea, he kept his gaze on her; she is the first to reject him since he came to Cina and this intrigued him. "You are not like the other guests to this island, aren't you?" Finally, Alisea answered him.

"No sir, I am only passing through. The Harbor Master's booth was empty, so I came here to wait." She still never lifted her gaze towards him.

"Ah, Camille, yeah she might be on a job. You might have to wait a while; if you want, I can help you pass the time." Lightly, he ran a finger up her arm; in response, Alisea scooted away from him "No thank you, sir, I am not interested," replied Alisea keeping her head down, and avoiding any eye contact. This annoyed Kenneth, he had hoped for easy money with this one, she appeared to carry enough, but he was not going to give up just yet; he was determined to make his money. Casually, he closed the space between them, "Why are you so shy, do not tell me you are still a virgin?" smirked Kenneth, this job might be easier than expected. Gently, he ran his hand along her thigh, making sure to stay on the surface; he had cracked other nuts tougher than her. With cheeks burning red, Alisea hastily sat up and turned to run, but Kenneth did not want to give up and grabbed hold of her wrist. He would later wish he did not.

Out of fear born instinct, Alisea swung her free hand hit anything keeping her from escape. With her fingers outstretched, her hand hit Kenneth's face and her nails dug deep into his flesh, cutting across from one end to another, even scratching his left eye bloody. Whaling in pain, Kenneth releases her and falls to the floor, cradling his marred face. Alisea, never seeing the damage her nails did, took her suitcase and ran out of the Inn and deeper into the island, hoping to get far away from the situation as possible.

XXXXX

Back on Mendocino, with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, coloring the sky in a plethora of vibrant purples, pinks, and oranges, Flinn rushed through the sleepy streets with blood hidden in his grandfather's jacket sleeves. Soon, he reached the Inn he saw Alisea enter the other day and his heart began to race out of love instead of fear; he only slowed when he saw Tom back at his post. He once again, reassured himself that all blood is out of view before he approached the huge man. With a stumbling voice, he greeted the guard, "Good morning, Tom."

Tom looked down at the man before him and immediately recognized him. Internally he winced at the horrid bump he had inflicted on the man's forehead he knew it was necessary. Despite yesterday's events, he decided to act in good faith, knowing it would make old Ethel smile, "Hey, you are up early. Are you sober now or must I hit you once more?"

"No, I am sober this time and I want to apologize for my actions. I had never had alcohol before and did not know there was a limit."

"I too apologize, that bump must certainly hurt." At this, Flinn gently touched it with his hand; it, indeed, ached and stung, but he had worse in the past and he shook off the pain.

"I just want to know if you have seen a woman yesterday dressed in purple and with a birthmark on her upper lip?"

"Yeah, she was here yesterday, but she ain't here anymore."

"Where did she go?"

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Long story, but she and I have gone through a nasty breakup and I want to fix it. Please tell me where she went." Begged Flinn, almost falling to his knees before the huge guard before him; thankfully Tom pointed the direction she had went.

"I saw her go towards the harbor, apparently, Mendocino wasn't right for her." With a bright smile on his face, Flinn thanked Tom and ran madly toward the harbor, knowing he could catch up to her on the next island. To his luck, the Harbor Master stood ready at their post. This Harbor Master was a young man, barely older than Flinn, with pale blue eyes and his shoulder length blond hair in a ponytail. Out of breath and his heart about to burst, Flinn practically crashed into the booth. "Sir, were you on post yesterday?"

Perplexed, the young Harbor Master nodded 'yes' at his seemingly mad blue haired man, "Yes sir, I am on post every day; he wondered why this young man before him was so breathless. How may I help you?"

"I am looking for a woman, she is dressed in purple, is traveling with a suitcase, and has a birthmark on her upper lip. Have you seen her yesterday?" again, Lady Luck was on Flinn's side as the Harbor Master nodded 'yes"

"She took the cheapest route, It was the Cleo to Cina, which was odd because she-" Flinn ran to his boat before the Harbor master could inform in of the business on Cina and Flinn would one day look back and wish he had heard what this Harbor Master had to say. He was already on his way out of the docks when he heard the screams and cries of horror and anguish. With a sinking heart, he knew the elderly Erigby couple had found the remains of their beloved granddaughter. Unwavering, never looking back once, Flinn continued to sail out of Mendocino and towards the direction of Cina; ignoring the cries, the scent of blood, and the scent of something sweet following him.


	7. Chapter 7

When the elderly Erigby couple awoke, they started their day like any other. Edgar puts on his shirt and Ethel helped him button his shirt since his arthritic fingers could no longer do this simple task on their own: when Ethel combed her hair, Edgar guided her hand as her old eyes, and frazzled mind could no longer work together as they use to when she was young. Together they see Cynthia's closed door and wish her well on her day at work. Together, they make their way down the old creaky steps of their old comfortable home. Together, they notice the empty couch and open door. Together, they saw the blood dripping from the ceiling.

Soon, three officers reached the old Erigby household and uncovered Cynthia's cold grey body. By now, her muscles hardened and contracted, twisting her mangled body into an unnatural form with her arms and legs bent and lifted from the floor like the legs of a dead fly. The youngest detective, a brown-haired and blue-eyed petite gentleman, named Peter lost his nerve at the sight of poor Cynthia and had to step out into the warm and heavy air of Mendocino. The people in the streets of Mendocino were unaware of the bloodbath inside the old house. Vlad, the second detective, a middle-aged mustached man with dark brown eyes, stood next to the girl's body. In awe of the grotesque beauty on the wooden floor before him, he wondered about the mind of the man that did this; certainly, he had to have held unbridled rage for young women to do this crime to such an innocent flower. The oldest detective, an elderly bearded man called Ivan, only wanted to find this murderer and bring him into a cold, dark cell. He stood in the elderly couple's Livingroom, with the Erigby couple holding each other in unified sobs and wails. "So, this young man is tall, thin, and with dark blue hair?" He asked, scratching a few notes down on his paper notepad. The cries of the elderly before him scratching his ears like the nails of a cat against a satin pillow and their cries of agony meaning as much to him as gold painted button; even without them answering his questions he had his mind set, "Don't worry, I will find him and bring him back here, where he can answer to justice."

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Flinn was already out of the harbor by the time the authorities made it to the Erigby residence, but he knew that they could easily track him down. All they would have to do is ask the Harbor Master. Rigging the sails to go as fast as possible, he only starts to breathe once Mendocino is nothing, but a speck on the horizon; only then did he allow himself to collapse onto the deck. Sobbing and clawing at his hair, Flinn lay on deck curled in a fetal position; the image of Cynthia's body charred into his mind. Only after his tears stilled and his sobs became shallow did he manage to regain his composure and he remembered that he had to clean up the blood, by now it had dried and changed from a bright red to a rusty brown. With a bucket of seawater and a bar of hard soap, he found in the cabin he scrubbed at his stained sleeves until the dark brown stains were gone, but to Flinn, they would never wash out. After hours of scrubbing and gathering fresh water, and raw hands, he gave up; the fabric would have worn out before the stain would disappear from his eyes. Emotionally exhausted, he leaned against the mast with his eyes staring blankly out at the vast ocean before him; he wondered if Alisea could ever love a killer.

How could I have killed Cynthia, I must have, I had her blood on me, but why would I kill her?

Sitting on the deck, he tried to piece together the events of the previous day, starting with his arrival at Mendocino, to his confrontation with Tom, to the Erigby's taking him to their home to sober up, to meeting Cynthia, and ending with his night on the couch. That was then his memory stopped; he must have killed her in his sleep, but he could not remember ever sleepwalking. He has no motive, no memory, and no reasoning. For a moment, he wanted to blame the liquor; this dark and sweet juice that numbed his limbs and wrapped his mind in cotton, but that would not be right. The liquor only existed for its' purpose and it was he who abused it. Even now, sober, he felt his limbs numb and his mind failed to form a full thought. Next, he wanted to blame the Erigby's; after all, if it had not been for them and their urge to help, then their beloved granddaughter would still be amongst the living. Then, Flinn mentally kicked himself; their act of good nature deserve better and if it had not been for their kindness, he would be in a cell or dead.

Again, he looks at his hands and wonders if those if those where the hands of a killer. He knew these hands were those of a pirate, the hands of a friend, the hands of a student, and the hands of a fighter. The role of a murderer simply did not seem to fit these hands, but he had to since Cynthia's blood was on them. Could it be that a murderer snuck into the Erigby house and framed him as a killer? Now he must have surely lost his mind. Soon, as the sun raised high into the sky and then began to sink, Flinn saw the distant form of Cina on the horizon and, again, the feeling of love and victory raced through his heart. The hunt had resumed. Soon, he reached the docks and his mind felt slapped; how could Alisea go to a brothel island. Since he knew Alisea is living on a budget, the cheapest option is always a wildcard. In addition, he saw the Cleo just beginning to load fresh cargo; she could not have been on this island longer than a few hours. Once docked, he ignored all the lustful calls and marched his way to the Harbor Master's booth, knowing Alisea would rather jump into the sea than stay a single hour on this island. Sitting there was the Harbor Master; a middle-aged, curly-haired blond with violet eyes and dressed in garbs from several different dresses. As she sat there, fixing her dress from an earlier job, she looked up and smiled at the blue-haired captain. "Hey there mister, how can I help you today?" her pink lips framing a perfect set of pearls.

"I am looking for someone." His heart raced, but not at the sight of the Harbor Master.

"Oh, is it a special someone?" she asks, leaning forward to widen her cleavage; a man with such a coat, must carry enough money to spare a few.

"She is my girlfriend, we hit a rough patch, and I hope to fix it. She is dressed in purple, with long brown hair, brown eyes, and a birthmark on her upper lip. She is traveling with a suitcase. Have you seen her?"

"Sorry my friend, I can't say I have, but I have just returned from a job. If she doesn't plan on staying here, she'll have to show up here eventually. I recommend you come back later and ask me again."

Defeated, Flinn simply nodded and trudged off deeper into the island; hoping his second theory would work better. Since Alisea had gone to every Inn closest to the docks, he hoped to find her there. Ignoring the calls and whistle of the men and women around him and with head hung low, he walks the streets of Cina with the simple hope of finding his love. At the first establishment he reached, he saw a young man with a maimed face sitting at a bar and numbing his pain.

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After hours of wandering through the busy streets of Cina, keeping her head down and avoiding the looks of the people around her, Alisea realized that she simply had to leave this brothel island. In the back of her mind, she feared Kenneth and that he would find her; she knew she had hurt him, but she knew if she were to return to his aid, he would certainly have his revenge. In addition, the thought of staying on Cina at night terrified her. Not all suiters could be kind and the thought of being mistaken for a native unnerved her. The lower the sun hung in the sky, the faster her feet worked to reach the Harbor Master. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Camille at her post. Without hesitation, Alisea marched up to the booth and observed the map of choices; she had already made up her mind that the next island will not be the cheapest. "How can I help you honey?" asked Camille with her pink painted lips.

"Umm…" suddenly, an island caught her attention, it was the only one with two prices. " Why does this one have two prices?" Camille did not need to turn around; she already knew which one the young women before her meant. Saoirse.

"Its' harbor ain't deep enough for merchant ships, you are gonna have to take a ship to the mainland and from there you take a train to the island. I heard it be a pretty place. 'Might even visit it myself one day." Alisea had heard of trains before and had planned to take a trip with one someday, but all islands she had ever visited where too small for them, but now was her chance. The journey would be expensive; consuming almost all her money, but a voice deep in her head begged her to take the chance. Without taking her eyes off the small depiction of Saoirse, Alisea dug out the money from the suitcase and handed it to Camille, "I'll take that one." In exchange, Camille handed Alisea two small paper tickets, one with an image of a ship and one with an image of a train.

"Take the Sgaoileadh. She is waiting on the other side of the island. She is the only one there so you can't miss her. She is docked there because she is too big and too heavy to dock here. You can get there by taking the main road; just stay on it and you'll be on the other side within a couple of minutes." Alisea thanked the harbormaster, but just as she was about to leave, she was stopped by the pretty blond. "Hey, this reminds me, a young dark-haired fellow came by here earlier, looking for a girl fittin' your description. Didn't leave his name, you got an idea?" it had to be Kenneth out for blood; with her heart beating in fright, Alisea shook her head.

"No, I can't think of anyone fitting that description to be looking for me." With that, she leaves Camille sitting at her station and makes her way to the other side of the island via the main road she had walked on earlier. Her mind raced with thoughts of how huge this ship must be to require a dock all on its' own. Again, she kept her head down and ignored the world around her. She would have kept up this pace if she had not bumped into a familiar face; she smelled her before she hit her. It was Lillian. It froze Alisea to see her on this island, but Lillian only smiled.

"Oh hello Alisea, did not expect to see you here of all places." The young women, in her dolly blue dress, perfectly curled hair, and pale blue eyes stood out from the surrounding like a sore thumb. Standing this close to the girl from Candle Cove, the smell of lilacs burned her nose.

"I could say the same of you."

"Yeah, I am only on the passing by. I sold my Inn to make a new life with my fiancé." She lifted her hand to show the former captain a ring on her finger; it was thin, gold, with a small golden flower and a tiny ruby in the center of a flower. It simply fit her dainty hands and perfectly formed fingernails. Alisea knew whom Lillian was referring to and it burned Alisea's heart. However, she had broken off the stagnant relationship, the thought of Flinn moving on so quickly stung like a hornet's sting.

"I am happy for you." Was all Alisea could manage to choke out. She could feel her face growing hot, her eyes growing wet, and the bitter taste of envy growing in her soul. She wanted to be happy for Lillian, who had lost so much and endured years of cold fog. She wanted to be happy for Flinn for finding his soulmate, but deep down she knew she could not. "Please, if you excuse me, I am going to be late for my ship."

"Oh, where are you going?"

"An island called Saoirse. It is a rather long trip and for all, I know the Sgaoileadh is the only ship that can take me there."

"Why are you going there, if it is so far out of the way and why don't you just take your own ship?"

"I am planning on finding a place to retire from being a captain. A life at sea simply is not for me anymore; it is nothing like I had dreamed of." With that, Alisea leaves Lillian standing there; as she walks, she keeps her head down to hide the tears running down her cheeks.


	8. Chapter 8

Wiping her tears away, Alisea hastened her speed and soon she reached the second port where she froze in awe of the sight before her. In her short life, she had seen ships of all shapes and sizes and made from all types of wood, but what she had not seen of was a ship made of metal. Three stories high and with two smoking chimneys, from where she stood, the Sgaoileadh was a behemoth. Hesitantly, she approached the plank, scared that at any minute this metal giant would sink into the sea. At the top, a bushy mustache man requested her ticked and she relinquished it to him. He took it, twitched his mustache, and allowed her passage. Before she did think, she turned to the man with a hint of fright in her eyes. "How can a ship made of metal swim?" At this, the mustached man chuckled.

"Miss, a ship made of metal is structured just like one made of wood. With the exception of the Sgaoileadh's coal-burning engine, it works like any other ship. You must not fear a thing, ma'am." He then offered her a warm, gentle smile and ushered her onto the ship.

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Sitting at the bar with a rag to catch the blood, Kenneth drank to numb the pain of both this face and the idea of losing his income. Half of his customers approached him for his admonish like face, now that this was stripped from him, the fear of losing everything grew deep in his chest. Sadly, the gin in his hands did little to numb this fear. This fear bore a deep cindering hatred of the girl that had stripped him of his once remarkable trait; his charm, wit, and confidence all stem from his flawless physique. In addition, his left eye was sliced and had to be removed by the barkeeper; robbing him of his depth perception and clear vision. Now, his world seemed flat and hazy; his empty eye socket burned and blurred his mind. Each though, interrupted by a burning sting in his eye socket. The only thought that managed to live and thrive in his mind, was that this girl must be punished; such a crime against his person cannot go unanswered, but where could he start looking for her? Cina is a big island with hundreds of people moving through it every day; a single girl such as she would disappear as a drop of water would in the ocean. Given her mannerisms, she would run from this island as soon as possible. Finishing his gin, he marched his way to Camille, knowing she would be able to help him. As the sun sank low and twilight grew in the sky, Kenneth moved faster through the streets of Cina, knowing the longer he took the further away she would be from his grasp.

When he finally reached Camille's booth, he shoved past a potential suitor and slammed his hands down on the counter. "Camille, I need your help." Startled and in shock, Camille jumps back in her seat, her eyes wide and her heart about to burst from her chest.

"Kenneth, what happened to you?" her voice was shaky and all color drained from her face as she saw his bandaged left eye.

"A little bitch happened, that is what happened. Have you seen her? She is dressed in purple, has long brown hair, and-"

"A birthmark on her upper lip." Finished Camille, she bit her knuckles at the thought of having sent Kenneth's attack to safety. "I have seen her, but she is long gone. She took the boat to Saoirse. It is set to leave port in half an hour; you will never make it to the other end of Cina before it leaves." Kenneth ignored Camille's warnings and dashed down the main road like the devil was upon him.

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Back at her booth, Camille gazed after Kenneth in worry. She had always fancied him, but their jobs prevented time for peaceful company. With a sigh, she rests her head on her hands, the potential suiter now gone and with him any extra money for the day. Lost in daydreams about Kenneth, she gazes out at the setting sun and darkening sky. About an hour before her shift was supposed to end, a customer threw Camille out of her daydream. "Oh, hello there madam, how can I help you?"

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The buildings and people around him became a blur, the wind whistled in his hears, the cold air stung his eye socket, and his heart drummed against his ribs. He could feel time slipping from his grasp the closer he got to the other side of Cina. Finally, as the distance between buildings became greater and the road became covered in sand; he already knew he was too late, but he hoped beyond hope that the ship had run into delays. When he reached the second harbor, the sky was a deep purple with scattered spots of stars and far at the horizon swam the image of the ship he had missed. With weakened knees and blazing eye socket, he fell into the sand with a bellowing cry of frustration. This was not the end.

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After hours of wandering the streets of Cina, dodging interested characters left and right, Flinn decided it was time to return to the booth and inquire the Harbor Master for any news about Alisea. The sky had grown dark and the streets became a maze of obstacles waiting to trip him. Cina, unlike most islands, did not possess any light posts or method of illuminating the streets at night. For Flinn, the only light was the red tinted shadows from the carpet-covered windows of the brothels and pubs. By now, his knee felt as if someone were digging into it with a rusty dagger, his stomach demanded food, his feet requested rest, and his heart desired to be numb. After what felt like an eternity walking in near pitch darkness, Flinn reached the Harbor Master's booth and his heart lifted when he saw its' shutters were still up. Yet, there seemed something off about it, where was the Harbor Master? Surely, if the shutters were still up, she still had to be on shift; then again, she might be on the job. Hesitantly, he approached the booth and looked past the counter; it was pitch black and silent as the grave inside the booth. A sinking feeling grew in Flinn's stomach the longer he stood in front of the booth; he called into the darkness, but there was no reply. Against his better judgment, he decided to investigate the booth, perhaps the master is taking a nap and forgot to close the shutters, perhaps she did not hear him, but he needed to find Alisea and scaring a Harbor Master was the least of his worries. Surprisingly or unsurprisingly, the door to the side of the booth was unlocked. Silently, it swung open, but still, he could not see anything. There were no candles burning, no moonlight to illuminate the area, nor was there any other form of light; it seemed the entire interior of the booth was covered in black velvet.

Shuffling his feet along the floor, Flinn carefully maneuvered his way through the small booth. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the darkness when his foot gets caught on something and he falls to his hands and knees. He stifles a groan of pain and his eyes squeeze shut to kill any tears trying to form. Taking a few deep breaths to compose himself, he allowed his eyes to slowly open. He wished he did not. Laying beneath him, was the body of the Harbor Master; despite the darkness, he could see the jagged cut going across her throat and the pool of blood underneath the poor girl's head. Flinn froze at the sight of her. The poor girl's face was void of all color, her eyes were rolled back, and the girl's golden hair was caked and matted with blood. Frozen, Flinn could barely breath and his heart almost stopped when he heard someone approaching the booth before he could move, the person stood outside the booth and leaned on the counter; Flinn never looked up but tried to blend into the darkness.

"Oh, sorry." whispered the person above him and then walked off; they had seen him, but not the blood. For the breakfast of moments, he was thankful that his island was known as a brothel. Without missing a beat, he jumped to his feet and ignored the blood on his hands. He had to get off this island and find Alisea, but how? His eyes surveyed the booth and feel upon the map with the prices listed; his he eyes now adjusted, he saw the prices and chose the cheapest island to follow.

Ceart

She had to be there, after all, she had chosen the cheapest of the cheap trips this far. Without thinking of being seen now, he dashed out of the booth; its door booming against the cheaply build structure and rushed to the Maria. With the adrenalin coursing through his veins, it felt as though time had slowed down to molasses speed, but soon enough his boat was out of the harbor and on its' way to Ceart.

Finally, the adrenaline wore off and his body began to tremble. Leaning against the mast, he slid down to the floor, trying to compose himself, but to no avail. His eyes filled with tears and his stomach turning into knots. He had seen more blood and carnage in one day then he had ever thought of seeing in his entire life. The sight of the bodies was edged into his mind and every time he closed his eyes he saw them. With every blink, he saw Cynthia's mutilated body lying in a pool of her own blood and entrails before him. When he shut his eyes, he saw the Harbor Master with her cutthroat. He knew the dead would haunt him for the rest of his life. In every dark corner, he would see them with their blood drained faces and dead-fog eyes set on him.

The only thing he desired was to numb his aching heart and mind. Away from other living beings, his drunken state could only harm him and no one else. Without hesitation, he headed back to the captain's cabin where the sweetly liquid is kept. For added security, he locked the cabin door being him before retrieving the dark bottle from hits hiding spot. It was only one of one hundred of its brothers. Once again, the sickly-sweet flavor flooded his pallet as the devilish liquid poured down his throat. Again, after a few swigs, the numbing sensation started at his fingertips and the tip of his tongue. Soon, he was back where he was yesterday; barely able to stand straight. With hazy eyes, he gazed around his empty and lonely cabin. Suddenly, his eyes caught the latch to the cargo hold below slightly open, as if not properly locked shut. With stumbling step, he approached it and kneeled before the opening in the floor. Staring into the black void, he could see her.

He knew she was waiting down there for him; in the darkest part of the cargo hold with her entrails strewn about and her head cradled in her arms. He could smell the bittersweet scent of blood wafting up from the crack and saw her moving closer to him, dragging her bowels behind her; the stump of her neck spewing more and more blood. With a lurch in his stomach, he shut the latch and pressed his body against it; he would not have this specter in the same room as him. "No, not today. Stay in your dark corner you ghastly spirit." He murmured and took hold of the small table. Without taking his weight off the latch, he pulled the table to take his place. Once the table was secure in place, he dared to lay in his bed with the safe knowledge of the specter being contained. With the liquor doing its' job, Flinn could feel his consciousness slip away and his eyes grow heavy. Soon, he returned to his beloved.

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In his dream, she was there in the bed with him, lying beside him with a gentle smile on her lips. Around her, he could forget everything; all the blood, carnage, and pain was gone. His eyes cleared from the haze that plagued his last dream, he let his eyes feast on her. He admitted how much he missed seeing her. Gently she ran her fingers through his hair, "Don't think of it right now, just stay here with me." She said with her soft and soothing voice.

He wished he never awoke from this dream.


	9. Chapter 9

On the Sgaoileadh, Alisea barely slept a wink. The roaring of the engines, the smell of the heated metal from the engine room one level below her, and the snoring of the father of the family she was sharing the cabin with kept her up; in addition, every creek from the metal walls around her frightened her. The crew-hand with the hairy mustache had tried to assure her of the safety of this ship, how the metal acted the same as wood on a sailboat, and that the main difference was that there was a coal-burning engine that works a propeller, which replaces the sails. However, Alisea felt out of place in this metal shell. Groggy and with aching feet, she made her way to the top deck for fresh air, leaving her suitcase behind in her room. The cool morning air felt refreshing and for once, in days, she felt at peace; still, she knew she needed a proper bed, meal, and a bath; the constant traveling is starting to take a toll on her nerves. Still, despite the loopy feeling in her stomach, the pain in her head, and the uneasy feeling in her chest, Alisea had to admit her fascination with the Sgaoileadh and its speed. She had left Cina's harbor late last evening and now, the shore of the mainland grew visible in the distant horizon. Looking over the railing at the ocean below, Alisea could see the water rushing past the bow of the ship faster then she had seen on any other ship. For a long moment, she simply stood there at the railing, mesmerized by the rushing water glistening below.

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Waking from his uneasy sleep on the cheap bunk bed in the early morning hours, Detective Peter Van Holm rubbed his neck. He and his colleagues had reached Cina late last night from Mendocino and now the young detective wished nothing more than to return home. Unlike Vlad and Ivan, he had never left his home island and being thrown from a bustling trade post to an endless brothel, felt nothing short of being thrown from the shallow end of a pond into the deep end. Yet, Peter kept quiet; they had a job to do. Unlike Peter, Detective Ivan Hempster slept soundly and awoke refreshed and calm; his years of investigations and man-hunts have left little in the world he had not seen. In a way, he pitied poor Peter as he remembered all to well his own first time away from home. It had been for a similar reason as now, hunting down a man who had killed his wife and remembered several restless nights in unfamiliar places.

Just as the two detectives were settling down for their morning cup of coffee, Vlad rushed into the room. He, unlike his colleagues, refused to sleep and took to touring the island instead. The fire in his eyes, the beads of sweat on his brow, and his heavy breathing were nothing short of that of a hunter after prey. "There has been another murder!" he gasped between breaths.

"Let their own authorities go after it, we already have a job to do." Replied Ivan, patting the coffee from his grey mustache with his handkerchief. "There is no need to hunt two men at the same time."

Peter, unlike Ivan, perked up, "Where is it and who is the victim?" he asked with a sinking feeling that the two cases are related. "It is the Harbor Master, she was found in her booth with her throat slit."

"Death in a brothel is nothing new, not all customers wish to pay for services and try to find any way out if possible. Perhaps she came across the wrong joe." Murmured Ivan, caring more about his morning coffee then the fate of some working girl that was unknown to the world.

"hold on there Ivan." Interjected Peter, having completely forgotten about the coffee before him. "We were by the Harbor Master's booth last night when we arrived; it could be possible that we were the last to come across her alive."

"Then the joe she was with when you approached the booth could be her killer. Is there anything you can remember about this man?" asked Vlad, taking a seat between his two colleagues.

"No, it was dark, and I only saw him from behind for a few seconds before we moved on." Peter mentally scolded himself; as a detective, he should have been of more use.

"He was wearing a dark blue jacket with gold trimming; it was worn thin around the elbows, suggesting years of use. Given the color and the appearance of the fabric, I'd say cotton; which is not very common, so he might have been of a higher class." Said Ivan, setting down his cup and turning his attention to his morning roll. "We are looking for a man in a blue jacket!" replied Vlad angerly, only to receive a have of the hand by Ivan.

"We are looking for a boy in a blue jacket, the make of which we don't know, with blue hair, and the image of crossed swords on his hat. I haven't seen his hair or his hat. Besides, the boy we are looking for is disheveled and manic, the man I saw appeared calm and collected."

"Still, he was the last one with her that night. He could be the killer." Insisted Vlad, growing more and more impatient with his colleague.

"Was there anything stolen from her person?" asked Ivan, taking a big bite of his role and groaning when he finds it cold and slightly stale

"No, only the master map is missing." Replied Vlad confused. He had worked with Ivan for years and still, this man was an enigma to him.

"Then there you have it. We are looking for someone else. She was most likely killed by a stingy Joe or a colleague. We can rule out robbery as nothing of value was stolen. We can also rule out our perp' since it is unlikely that he knew her. We know he had not been to CIna before from the interview with the Harbor Master back on Mendocino. Science says that people only kill those they know or wish to steal from."

"What if science is wrong; I mean, what if he killed her to rob her, but got scared away? Also, the man killed Cynthia and he did not know her at all," asked Peter, deep down he knew the kills were related, but without proof, he could never convince his superior.

"No one was seen near the booth until early this morning." Replied Vlad, taking his share of the coffee before it grew cold. "We could argue that he wore black clothes, but that still has little to do with our case. As for Cynthia, things were stolen from her person: a flower ring, a pearled comb, a fine gold necklace with a seashell pendant, and a white dress."

"So, how are we going to tell the Erigby's that we lost the killer of their granddaughter?" Peter felt crushed; his first huge that led him away from home run the risk of remaining unsolved. He thought of the girl, Cynthia; he did not know her personally, but it felt wrong to have her murder go unpunished.

"We won't," said Ivan in a firm voice, "We know he came from Monster Island from the report of the Harbor Master and that he went from Mendocino to Cina; so far, he chose the cheapest route, so it is safe to assume he chose the cheapest again."

"that is a very risky assumption, Ivan, what if he changed his mind and chose the next cheapest route?" asked Peter, mentally took notes.

"He is manic, but, like all humans, he is still a creature of habit. It is possible that he took a more expensive route, but it is also possible that the sun will rise from the west and rain will fall up towards the sky. I don't know how else to explain this to you, Peter, but I know this boy chose the cheapest route once again. I haven't served as a detective for over thirty years for nothing." With that, Ivan finished his breakfast and put on his jacket. "Now, gentlemen, if you are finished with your questions we have a murderer to catch."

XXXXX

Returned from her stole on deck, Alisea was once again greeted with the sight of the family she shared the cabin with. Of course, they had helped themselves to her share of the morning meal, but Alisea did not mind. She had never been a fan of hard take break; the thought of accidentally eating a beetle nest made her nauseous. Without a word to them, she went to her bed and grabbed her suitcase. For a moment, she felt her stomach sink when she saw it, but wrote it off; her stomach had not been feeling right since she left the Academy. Ignoring the unwarranted dirty looks from the family, Alisea returned to the surface of the Sgaoileadh; the mainland growing closer by the minute. Now, Alisea could barely make out the forms of the tall buildings and the figure of the three hundred feet Angle statue appeared figurine small in the distance.

By late noon, the Sgaoileadh docked at Newport Harbor; Alisea was floored by the sight of the merchants, carriages, street vendors, and sailors. It was breathtaking. She did not wait for the family to leave their cabin, nor did she wait for the crew to unload the cargo first; the moment the blanks were down, she ran for land and melted into the crowd. Excitement, awe, and a hint of fear carried her through the ocean of people; she knew she had to get directions to the train station, but she did not know what one would look like. Perhaps the Harbor Master could point the way, but finding the booth in this ant hive of a harbor would be as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack.

XXXXX

Waking from his sleep, Flinn groans from the pain in both his head and heart. His cabin swayed in his vision and the thought of getting out of bed nauseated him. He cured himself for drinking once again, but secretly knew he would repeat his mistake later that night; the dark liquor allowed him to see his beloved. Turning onto his side, he saw the small table over the cargo latch. God, I am crazy when toasted. Flinn laughed at his actions, he knew Cynthia was not in his cargo haul, nor was she a ghost. He left all ghosts he knew, he left behind on Candle Cove, leaving Alisea to be the only one haunting his mind. Ignoring the pain in his knee, he got up and removed the table from the latch, but stopped just short from opening it; the sinking feeling of being in danger grew in the pit of his stomach. "I don't really need anything from down there right now." He told himself as he left his cabin, glad that the sensation in his stomach weakened the further away from the latch he got.

When he set foot on deck, the sensation of the sun bathing him in its glow filled his spirit with hope. Its' warmth reaching the deepest part of his heart. Today would be the day that he finds his beloved and he would never let go of her; even if she refuses his proposal, he would not give up. He knew they belonged together and he would move heaven and earth to prove it to her.

In the distance, he could see the form of Ceart grow and the closer the Maria got to this distant island, the more his heart raced; returning to its horse gallop before the ship was within fifty miles of Ceart's golden shores. By noon, he docked and jumped ashore; the harbor was mostly empty, with only three elderly men lounging on barrels by the Harbor Master's booth, one of the men being the Harbor Master; his higher quality coat signifying his position. Flinn quickly approached without hesitation, his heart galloping like a wild horse. "Sir, could you help me? I am looking for someone." Said Flinn, trying to control his wild heartbeat.

"Well kiddo, can't help you without you telling me who you looking for." Murmured the Harbor Master, seemingly annoyed at having his attention torn from his friends, but Flinn remained determined and grew desperate.

"Sir, it is very important I find her. She may not have given her name, but if I give you her description, could you tell me where she went?"

"I guess boy, but you better make it quick." Grumbled the Harbor Master under his breath, once again breaking his attention from his comrades to face Flinn.

"I am looking for a woman…"

"Aren't we all." Interrupted the Harbor Master with a hoarse laugh, his comrades joining in, but quickly quiet down when they see Flinn's face grow dark with anger, "It is important that I find her," he hissed through his teeth at the fat Harbor Master and his equally chubby friends. "She is wearing a purple dress and a scarf around her head. Under the scarf, she has long brown hair and her eyes are even darker. She is smaller than I, but her stubbornness makes up for that."

The Harbor Master's eyes surveyed the docks and the shore and shrugged, "I have seen a few people today, but none fitting your description. Quite the fact, I have not seen a woman all week. Have any of you?" he asked his comrades, who laughed and shook their heads.

"Except for my misses, but you ain't looking for her!" howled one of the men, slapping his knee.

"Are you serious?" Flinn was dumbfounded, he was sure Alisea had taken a ship to this island; it was the cheapest option. Now, fear reclaimed its' place in Flinn's heart and he began to doubt his mind. What if she had taken a different route and was now at the other end of the world? His heart sank and his vision blurred; he could barely breathe.

"I am, kid, are you alright? You look a little ghostly there." The Harbor Master stopped his laughter along with his friends. Cautiously, he stood up from his barrel and gently placed a hand on Flinn's shaking shoulders. "Hey kid, I am sorry, but I haven't seen your girl." He said sincerely, but a sinking feeling in his stomach told him that the young boy before him could not hear him.

Suddenly, Flinn's unfocused eyes fixated themselves on the Harbor Master. He knew this fat old man was lying to him; he knew where Alisea went, but he would not tell. Furious, he grabbed hold of the man's fat neck and roughly shook him. "You dirty bastard!" shouted Flinn, the Harbor Master's friends scurrying off like feared rats and the young captain's sudden violence. "I know you saw her! She asked you to lie to me, didn't she? Do you think I am a fool? I demand you tell me where she is!"


	10. Chapter 10

Panicked and shaken to his core, the Harbor Master's knees gave way and he kneeled before the young captain. "Where is she?" Flinn's patience grew thin with the Harbor Master and he began vigorously shaking the kneeling man before him like a rag doll. "Speak you bastard!" he demanded as he made a move for his sword.

"Alright I'll tell ya!" cried the master, sweat flowing from his brow. "She went to Mormonta." Tears flowed from the chubby man's eyes and he began to shake uncontrollably. "She made me swear not to tell; she gave me a pretty penny to keep me secrets. Please, sir, have sympathy for a simple Harbor Master." Blubbered the master, losing control of his bodily functions and soiling his already stained trousers. For a second, Flinn felt sorry for the old man, feeling wrong for the distress he caused, but he shook those feelings aside.

"That is all I needed to hear; good day, sir." Feeling cold inside, he loosened his grip on the Harbor Master and returned to the Maria, leaving the chubby man kneeling on the dirt in his own filth. He did not feel anything; he knew he should, since he threatened a complete stranger, but he could not. Turning the Maria towards Mormonta, he left Ceart with the voice of failure nagging at the back of his mind.

Back out on the open ocean, the weight of the situation hit him and the words of the Harbor Master resonated in his skull. "She made me swear not to tell; she gave me a pretty penny to keep me secrets." She had paid someone to hide her, to lie to him and make him run in circles. This meant she knew he was searching for her and was purposefully avoiding him; she was purposefully putting him in agony and sending him sailing throughout the world. The deep emptiness in his chest filled with a blazing rage. How dare she hurt him in such a vial way; he had never laid a hand on her nor had he spoken ill of her, if anything he cherished her like a queen. Leaving the wheel, he proceeded to pace on the deck with clenched fists; here he was, sailing from island to island for her and all he received for his efforts was heartache and nightmares. It simply was not fair.

Searing with anger, sorrow, and hate Flinn grabs the gold ring from his pocket and clenches it tight in his fist. Feeling its' weight in his hand, he remembered what Richard told him to do with it. "I meant to give this to my love, but as you know, I couldn't. You, on the other hand, still have a chance with your ladylove; it would be a shame to let this ring go to waste on an old man like myself." Now, he thought that this ring would be better kept in the elderly man's possession. Suddenly, like an ice-cold razor, a thought flew across his mind and his eyes fell on the vast ocean before him. It was clear she did not want this ring; he could not return it to Richard; he could not even bear to hold this reminder of a failed romance in his hand. Reeling back his arm, he aimed to throw the ring as far away from himself as he could, but when the moment came, his hand refused to release. Again he tried and again he failed, part of his soul refusing to give up on his beloved; even now, with nothing to gain and everything to lose, he could not let go.

"Why are you so cruel to me?" he cried to the empty ship and sank to his knees; the searing anger in his chest fermenting to bitterness. He wanted to be angry with her and he knew he should be, but he simply could not force himself to. He clutches his chest in fear that his heart would burst out of his chest. Bitter tears flowed from his eyes and stained his cheeks; he felt like screaming and tearing his hair out, but all he had the strength for, was kneeling on deck crying.

After, what felt like hours of crying, Flinn got onto his feet with his heart occupied by blissful emptiness.

XXXXX

After hours of being pushed around the Newport Harbor, Alisea finally came across the Harbor Master's booth. To her surprise, the booth was not simply a small shack, but a firm, multi-roomed, stone building located a kilometer inland from the docks; with its' imposing stone entrance and fire warm brick walls, reminded Alisea more of an executive building instead of a mere Harbor Master's office. Pushing past the bustling crowd of people, she felt out of place in the splendidly decorated entrance hall, with its' onyx floor and Greek-style, white marble columns. Having fought her way through the crowd to one of the numerous offices, she took a deep breath to compose herself before approaching an unoccupied desk, the man behind which, sat bent over a massive logbook with his glasses barely sitting on his plump nose. "Excuse me, sir." Begrudgingly, the elderly man lifted his eyes from his work and surveyed the new arrival before him.

"How can I help you?" he asked in a dry and raspy voice that reminded Alisea of the voice of a schoolteacher; it made her uncomfortable.

"My apologies, sir, but I must find my way to the train station." She pulls out the second ticket from her dress pocket, "The train is supposed to take me Saoirse, but I have never been on the mainland before; could you please direct me to the train station that will take me there?" with a frown, the man lifted his finger from the book and pointed east.

"Go east and follow Mitchel Avenue for around one hundred kilometers until you reach the crossing of Bismarck and Muller Street; go down north on Bismarck, from there you can't miss the train station. An appropriate staff member can point you to the right train. The station closes at midnight, so I suggest you get on walking; you have quite the walk ahead of you." With that, he returned his attention to his books, leaving Alisea on her journey.

Outside of the master's house, Alisea tried her best to follow the directions she was given; quickly she finds her mind distracted by the sights the mainland offered. From boutiques to bakeries, to small convenience stores, all of which felt familiar and yet otherworldly. On the mainland, the streets were full with music and excitement; she knew none of these things were known to the world, but walking through Mitchel Avenue, Alisea felt like a child discovering the world for the first time. So engrossed in her surrounding, she almost missed the crossing; remembering the directions, she went north on Bismarck Street. Soon, the sun began to descend in the sky; it was six in the evening. Her stomach growled and her feet screamed for rest, but she refused to stop, in six hours the station would close and she was nowhere near the station; slowly, she began to worry, if she had taken a wrong turn.

Finally, at around nine-thirty in the evening, the train station came into view and with it, her heart jumped with relief. Her heart also raced at the sight of the locomotives; all her life, growing up, she had only heart of these metal beasts and seeing them in person is little none short of accelerating. Without hesitation, she approached the nearest ticket booth with a beaming smile on her face. Surprisingly, the elderly lady, women in her early sixties with gray hair pulled into a tight bun, behind the counter greeted her with an equally bright smile.

"Well, hello there young lady, how may I help you this evening?" her voice was sweet, dry, and slightly cracked; it was exactly how Alisea imagines a grandmotherly voice to sound like.

"I am sorry to bother you ma'am, but I have a ticket for a train to Saoirse; it is my first time using a train and I don't want to miss it. " Quickly she shows the women her ticket she bought on Cina.

"Oh don't be sorry child, you are not the first to take their first ever train ride. I find them fascinating myself; it is quite interesting what man can think of. Your train is number seven, it takes off in thirty minutes; just show your ticket to the Train Conductor when he asks of it and you will be fine. Take care young lady." Pocketing her ticket, Alisea thanked the lady and sought for the lucky locomotive seven, that would take her on a new adventure.

Walking down the steam filling station with her heart racing like a wild mare, Alisea searched for the locomotive with the seven with time running short. After, what felt like an eternity, of searching through this alien world she found it; there before Alisea, she stood, a bright red locomotive with a huge gold-painted seven on its' side. With a happy sigh, she approached it, but a hand grabbed hold of her shoulder and stopped her dead in her tracks. "Ma'am, where do you think you are going?" asked a rough and booming voice behind her; hesitantly, without turning her head, Alisea pointed to the locomotive.

"That is my train…the train I have to catch to get to Saoirse."

"In that case, you must go to one of the passenger carriages, but first, I must ask for your ticket." Now, Alisea might be inexperienced, but she was no fool; she was not going to hand her only ticket to a complete stranger. Quick as lightning, she turned to face the man behind her, only to face a tall man in a green uniform. He wore a firmly curled, handlebar mustache that bounced with his smile and a small, cylinder cap. "Your first train ride ain't it?" he asked with a warm smile. Quickly, she realized, but the gold colored embroidering on the man's hat, that this man is a train conductor.

"Is it that obvious?" she could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she handed him the ticket.

"Well, not too many regulars go right for the engine; that tends to be a beginner mistake." He said in a soothing voice and punching her ticket. "Now follow me, I know of a carriage with open seats."

"Why can't I go into the engine?" being a former captain, the idea of being out of the area of control unnerved her; this was another reason why she could not sleep on the Sgaoileadh.

"Well, a train is a very expensive and easily breakable piece of machinery. Now, don't take this wrong ma'am, but you don't look like a Byron Pinner or Robert Folkker." Chuckled the conductor, obviously, she was not the first to ask this question. Following the Conductor's orders and soon she found herself, comfortably seated on a dark wood bench in a well light carriage, surrounded by other passengers. Gazing out the window at the clouds of pluming smoke from the engine, Alisea's stomach lurched as the train leaped into action and rolled out of the station. The faster the trained became, the more the world outside her window turned into a blur. Yellow flower shops, red-brick buildings, wide open streets, and busy people all melted into one, with the setting sun bathing all in a heavenly golden glow as the train made its' way from the Newport Harbor to its' designated stops. After its' first stop, Alisea planned to get out, until she heard the Conductor calling the name of their current stop.

"All to Monika City enjoy your night!" his voice barely rising over the screeching of the train's breaks. A little crestfallen, Alisea sat back down and placed her suitcase on her lap, a light chuckle from beside her, catching her attention. Turning her head, she realizes, for the first time, that a well builds, middle-aged, a woman with a wide brim straw hat adorned with bright pink roses and fitting pink dress. "A little eager today, aren't we?" her voice was bubbly and cheerful, with a slight hint of a southern twang; both the hat and the voice complementing her pale green eyes, chalky brown hair, and baby-pink cheeks.

"Yeah, I am nervous, I have to make it to Saoirse; do you happen to know how many stops this train takes before it?"

"Saoirse is the last stop of this train, so you are going to sit here for a while."

"How long exactly?" Alisea pressed on, a sinking feeling growing in her stomach. She might have been excited about riding on a train for the first time in her life, but she was frightened about them and feared to stay on this train longer than expected.

"You are going on an overnight trip. I took that journey a few years back; needless to say, I do not envy you." Sensing Alisea inwardly groaning, she continued with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Lucky Seven is a sturdy train and serves small snacks; they are cheap, but edible and there is a bathroom wagon in the back of the train. You should be fine." At this, Alisea smiled, at least there would be nourishment; her stomach felt in pain from neglect. She continued a friendly conversation with the lady in the pink rose hat; finding out her name was Lidia Van Hansing, the daughter of a prominent writer, and that she was on a trip to meet her aunt, who lived in Plummer, a county three stops away.

After the initial awkwardness, Alisea finally enjoyed a peaceful moment in her journey while having a conversation with Lidia. For a long while, she could forget the heartache, hunger, foot pain, and fatigue with a simple conversation that started with, "what is your name?" and ended with, "Why are you on this train?" Lidia, seemingly taking pity on Alisea, took a book from her purse and gifted it to her with a gentle smile.

"This is my father's latest work; I highly recommend it. Perhaps it could help you take your mind off things." Being perfect timing, the moment Lidia handed Alisea the small, red-covered book, the conductor called the stop for Plummer and with this, Lidia was out of Alisea's life. After the train left Plummer, Alisea sat on her bench for a while with a pleasant smile on her face and the book in her hand. By now, the clock stroke midnight and Alisea's stomach screamed for sustenance; relenting to her mortal need, Alisea opened her suitcase to see what she could afford and froze. For a long moment, she could not believe her sight; her shirt, pants, jacket, and boots were there untouched, but the money, the thirty coins remaining from the money Ellie had given her, was gone!


	11. Chapter 11

The money was gone, all of it! What was she supposed to do, where was she supposed to go from here? Her ticket only brought her as far as Saoirse; from there, she would be on her own. Her heart galloped, her palms sweated, and her stomach twisted itself into knots; the one thing she hoped would not go wrong happened. When had this happened, her suitcase was in her possession at all time? Then it hit her like a brick; she had left her suitcase alone on her bed back on the Sgaoileadh with the family she shared the cabin with. One of them must have taken the opportunity when she went for a brisk stroll. Pacing back and forth on the carriage, with her mind spinning and her heart racing, she wondered what she could do. If anyone else were with her in the carriage, they would have thought her mad. Jumping off the train on a random stop would crazy, if not dangerous without the money for food and board; on the other hand, after reaching the station on Saoirse, she would be in the same position. Without the funds to return to the academy or to keep going, wherever she got off she would be stuck. She could hide as a stowaway on another ship, but if she were caught, she would be treated as such. If that were the case, prison would be the best result. Perhaps she could get a job on Saoirse, but who would hire her? She had no natural skills or work history, and she did not know that native language of the island, which worried her even more.

Close to tears, she sank back into her seat and buried her face in her hands; close to tears.

XXXXX

Under deck, Flinn lay in his bunk with the empty sensation growing more and more unbearable. He tried, unsuccessfully, to numb the emptiness with liquor, but it only seemed to have fueled it. The thought of ending this misery crept into his mind, but quickly he banished it for fear of following its' sweet siren voice. He tried returning on deck, but the sunlight stunk his tear beaten eyes and caused his worried head to throb with every beat of his hurting heart; taking refuge under the shade of the main mast, he let his eyes gaze out onto the vast blue ocean. He remembered the thrill and joy the sight provided him; how the sensation of the ship rocking in the waves filled his mind with endless possibilities; how the smell of sea salt cooking in the bright sun soothed his spirit; now, nothing brought him joy.

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the solid trunk of the mast, he let his mind wander and he thought "how did it come to this?" why was he chasing after a woman, who clearly did not want anything to do with him; surely, he must be insane. Then again, he often did things that seemed insane and ludicrous. Perhaps she wanted nothing to do with him, perhaps she was afraid of facing him after she left the academy, or, and he feared this thought, she was back on Mendocino and the harbor master had given him wrong information. He would not know until he reached Mormonta and spoke with its' harbormaster. Several times throughout the day, he checked his maps and compasses to ensure he was still heading in the right direction, each time sighing in relief that the winds were generous to lead him straight to his target. Soon, the sun was setting in the western horizon and the silhouette of Mormonta came to view.

It was not long before he reached the quiet island's weather-beaten wooden docks; he was a little surprised at how quiet the harbor seemed, but it was the evening hour. Slowly, and still slightly intoxicated, he made his way to the Harbor Master, who was sitting in his booth reading a book. Though he did not wish to repeat what he had with the last master, he still wished his journey to be over and knocked on the booth's counter without hesitation. "Excuse me, sir, I need your help."

The master, an elderly man with a well-kept mustache, jumped a little at the sound of the knocking; clearly, he had not noticed Flinn earlier, but he quickly caught himself and inspected the young stranger before him with a wary eye. "How may I help you this evening?"

"I am looking for a woman…"

"Aren't we all?" chucked the master, but that quickly died when he saw his joke had reached deaf ears.

"The master on Ceart told me she took a ship here. I was hoping to have caught up with her-."

"Sir," the master interrupted, "No ship has shown up here. I don't know what that master told you, but no ship has been scheduled for this island all day."

What? No, that can't be; he told me she went here. Perhaps she came here on a later boat or you must have missed it. Maybe her ship is running late!" his words began to run together and so did his thoughts. He heard the last master tell him that she went to Ceart. What if he misheard the master and he named some other island, or perhaps her ship sunk along the way. The latter, however, seemed unlikely as he saw no evidence of a sinking during his trip.

"Sir, the only ship scheduled for this location is a small fishing junker from Mormonta's sister island Sinsin. Again, I have no idea what the last master told you, but your woman isn't here. I suggest you go back to Ceart and ask him again where she went. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Flinn only managed to shake his head, dumbfounded to say anything. He should have known this journey was a farce from the moment he started; he knew Alisea well enough to know that she could do anything she set her mind to, including hiding from him. His heart hurt, his knees grew weak, his mind spun and his vision blurred; without realizing it, he fell to his knees before the booth. The master jumped from his post and rushed to the young captains' aid; wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulder and keeping him steady. "What is wrong kiddo?" he gave Flinn a gentle shake; this must have loosened something within the young captain for he suddenly turned and wrapped his arms around the old man's chest, holding him tight like a frightened child, and began to cry. The Harbor Master, being a father of five and a grandfather of three, knew this type of distress all too well and gently held the sobbing sailor, lightly rubbing his back. "Come on kiddo, there is no need to cry. Harbor Masters make mistake too; they are human."

"She is gone! She doesn't want me to find her! I shouldn't even have started looking for her! I should just give up!" the young captain hicked between soul-shaking sobs. In response, the master carefully pried the sobbing captain from his person and gave him a gentle shake. "Hey kiddo, this all has a simple solution."

"Then what is it?" Flinn asked, trying to wipe the fresh tears from his eyes.

"Why were you looking for this women in the first place?"

"I was going to ask her if she wanted to marry me, but she left before I got the chance!"

"Do you love this woman?" he asked with a gentle tone, he knew this was a sensitive subject, but he could not keep this young man crying all day.

"Of course, I do, I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"Then you should continue to look for her."

"But, what if I don't find her?"

The old Harbor Mater gently lifted the young captain's chin, so he could look into his eyes. "And if you quit now, you will always ask yourself if you could have found her. Take it from an old man, kiddo, life is hard, and nothing is gifted to you, so you must work hard for everything you want. You can't quit, simply because you are not seeing the results you like. If you love this woman so much, then you should keep looking for her. For all you know, she might be thinking of you and is simply too scared to approach you."

Flinn nodded in understanding and gave the old master a weak smile; he was right. Perhaps the last master gave him the wrong island and, perhaps, Alisea was thinking of him the way he thought of her. Carefully, with the old master to steady him, Flinn got back on his feet; feeling a little childish for breaking apart in front of a complete stranger. With a weary voice, he thanked the man and returned to the Maria with the intention of returning Ceart; leaving the old master standing on at the docks waving and wishing him a safe voyage.

XXXXXXXXXXX

On a small mail boat heading to Ceart, Peter and Vlad stood on deck and compared their notes while Ivan leaned against the railing, stuffing his pipe with Tabaco. Peter still thought the two killings were related, despite Ivan and Vlad insisting they were not. He knew he should take his colleague's word, but his gut simply would not let that idea rest and his gut was rarely wrong. "What if he has moved on from Ceart to another island by now?"

"Simple, we split up. One of us will follow the pattern and the other two will move from Ceart to Sinsin. Hopefully, we can trap him on Mormonta. It is unlikely he is expecting us to follow him all the way from Mendocino. He probably didn't even know that we followed him from Mendocino to Cina. We were just unlucky that he had moved on from Cina." Replied Vlad while sketching something in his notes.

"What if he is still on Cina and we simply missed him?"

"What use would he do in Cina? There is little to steal with all the Masters and Mistresses. If he tried to steal from a working girl, he would have his hand chopped off. Besides, we interviewed most of the major brothels and no one saw anybody matching our description."

"If this man is such a maniac, then there is no reason he went to a brothel. Perhaps he slept in the streets and we missed him."

At this, Vlad smirked. "What is the matter with you, did a pretty girl catch your fancy on Cina?"

"No, I am afraid we weren't thorough enough!" Peter snarled in annoyance. To Peter, the job was his wife and he knew Vlad knew.

"Listen, Peter, we were as thorough as we need to be. If we were wrong, he gets away and Cynthia won't be avenged…"

"Exactly, Cynthia won't be avenged and a murderer is on the loose. He might even kill again. How embarrassing would it be if we lost someone the likes of Jack the Ripper? Not only will the Erigby's be heartbroken, but also others might be in danger. You saw how he butchered that young girl, I can't imagine others suffering like that." At this, Vlad bit his lips; it was admirable how passionate Peter was about his job, but this also worried Vlad; he worried that his colleague and friend might break himself in this case.

"Listen, Peter, all we can do is try our best. If we fail, at least we can say we tried. This world is huge and we are just three detectives hunting down a single person." He places a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder, "please promise me that, even if we fail, that it won't break you." Peter only nodded in understanding.

That afternoon, they reached the calm shores of Ceart. Being the only passengers on the mail boat, they easily maneuvered to the Harbor Master's booth, finding a trembling and smelly man hanging on to a half-empty bottle. "Sir, we are Detectives from Mendocino on a manhunt. Are you open to a few questions?" asked Ivan, taking a deep puff of his pipe.

The Harbor Master looked up at the detectives with drunk-glazed eyes. "Are you here for the crazy man?" he murmured with a drunken voice. Peter immediately pushed past Ivan and practically flung himself at the master.

"Did he have blue hair and wore a dark-blue jacket?" he asked in excitement, he knew his gut was never wrong.

"Yes, that is the basic. He came here ramblin' 'bout some girl. 'Didn't know her, so I told 'im to get lost. He snapped 'nd threatened to cut me throat. I lied and sent him to Mormonta." The master shook at that memory and took another swig of his bottle before looking back at the detectives. "You lookin' for 'im too?"

"The man we are looking for has killed a local girl on Mendocino." Said Peter; he moved his face a little closer to the drunk master's face. "You said you send him to Mormonta?"

"Yeah, Mormonta, but he be on 'is way back though. 'know the master 'f Mormonta; bloody honest bastard!" he sniffled an took, yet another, swig from his bottle; he felt like a dead man walking.

"You think he will come back from Mormonta just to get back at you for lying about the ware bouts of some women?" asked Vlad, scribbling a quick note about Mormonta.

"Man looked 'eady to kill." The Harbor Master choked back a few tears. " 'm dead!"

At this, Vlad turned to his colleagues, "I have a plan. I will take the next ship to Mormonta to see if he got there and if he planning or has begun to travel back here. Judging by his speed, he probably has his own ship." Suggested Vlad; his colleagues did not object.

"And we will wait here until we hear of you or until the man runs into our trap." Added Ivan, tipping his pipe at Vlad, and soon, Vlad was on the next ship to Mormonta.

Peter turned to Ivan, "How long do you think we should wait?"

"Mormonta is not that far from Ceart. If our got here at a reasonable time and there were no incidences on his journey and he is on his way back, then he would make it back here shortly before midnight."

"Yer gonna protect me, ain't ya?" asked the master, clinging to his bottle like a frightened child clings to a toy during a thunderstorm.

"Oh don't worry kind sir, we will keep you safe, but you will have to play along with our plan." Said Ivan, refilling his pipe.

XXXXXXXXXX

Flinn had not taken a single break since he left the docks on Mormonta; the conversation having lifted his spirits. He felt alive as he made his way back to Ceart; it was almost midnight when he spotted Ceart illuminated by the moonlight in the distance.


	12. Chapter 12

Sailing closer to the harbor of Ceart, he began to worry about his last encounter with its' master and how it might affect their next encounter. He blushed in embarrassment as the past events with the master ran through his mind; he was nothing short of appalled by his actions and how he had threatened the fat man with death. Sure, Flinn was desperate but thought that his actions might have only added to his desperation. For all he knew, the man's mind went blank and he simply spewed the first island that came to his mind when Flinn goes for his sword. Docking at Ceart, Flinn sighed in relief when he saw that the Harbor Master's booth was illuminated by a lantern and a figure sat inside. With the aim in his leg subsided, he jumped off the Maria and confidently strode towards the Harbor Master with a sheepish grin. "Hello, sir, I apologize for my actions earlier. I am afraid you send me to the wrong island."

"Oh there boy, don't worry 'bout earlier," beads of sweat formed on the man's fleshy forehead and his right hand shook. "Ya girl, poor thing, made me swear to lie…" his voice began to crack and the shaking in his hand intensified. Flinn felt that something was not right with the man.

"Sir, is everything alright?" asked the young captain, slightly leaning into the booth, worried that the man was sick and about to faint.

"I am, but you ain't" replied the master, but before Flinn could ask any more questions, young Peter sprung up from underneath the counter and aimed his pistol at Flinn.

"Halt, you are under arrest for the murder of Cynthia Erigby!" shouted the young detective. Flinn instinctively jumped back but was then hit on the back of the head by Ivan's, who knew exactly where to punch someone to disarm them and Flinn crumpled to the ground like a sack of bricks.

"Great hit Ivan, and you too Harbor Master Clensky; you did a great job as keeping up appearance.

"Yer lockin' 'im up, right?" asked the Harbor Master with a shaking voice; wiping the sweat from his brow with an old handkerchief.

"Nothing to worry about, Mr. Clensky, we'll take him to the public jail and keep him under lock until Vlad returns from Mormonta, then we will have to answer to the court back on Mendocino." Assured Ivan, popping his old knuckles and smiling to himself; there was little he enjoyed more than catching a criminal. "Now, old chap, you should grab a drink and catch some rest"

The Harbor Master nodded his head and hurried home while the two detectives carried an unconscious Flinn off the jailhouse. Unannounced to the Harbor Master, his stepdaughter, Erma, had been observing the ongoings from her vantage point on the second floor of the master's harbor home. The young women, at age sixteen, had become restless with her position on this remote island. Here on Ceart, there was nothing to do and no one, interesting, to talk to. She knew every stick and stone on Ceart by name and wished nothing more than something new. To her, when she heard of her father's assault, she could not help herself, she had to watch every minute, clenching her bedsheets in anticipation. She loved her stepfather, but he was simple and refused to allow her to travel; now was her chance to escape. Everything had fallen right into place, the detectives had taken him to the prison, which was at best poorly kept and at worst a rusty box with a blind guard-dog to watch over it. Pretending to sleep, she listened as her stepfather stumbled in the door and made his way to the liquor cabinet; all she had to do was wait until he was well liquored up. After more than half an hour of listening to him drink and chatter to no one in the kitchen beneath her room, she heard him make his way upstairs and past her room to his and, before long, she heard his deafening snore.

As quiet as a mouse, the gathered her small duffel bag from underneath her bed and crept out into the dark hallway. Resisting the urge to check in on her little brother, who slept just across the hallway from her, she crept down the stairs and out into the night. Walking through the sleeping streets of Ceart, Erma clutched her duffle bag tight to her chest and took several deep breaths to calm her nerves; looking over her shoulder several times to ensure she would not be spotted. There was nothing keeping her on Ceart; her mother was dead and she had grown bored of her friends and neighbors. She would just take the ship and go on her own, but she knew nothing about sailing and last minute learning was not an option. Crouching behind the City Hall, Erma peeked around the corner at the shack that served, as Ceart's only prison was located. Before it, guarding the only prisoner, sat the two detectives and a fourteen-year-old toothless guard dog. From her vantage point, Erma could see that the elderly detective had fallen asleep in his rocking chair, but the younger one sat wide-awake, with a small candlelight for him to read. The elderly detective and the dog, Erma could deal with, but the younger man could wreck her plans. Silently she stood, biding her time; eventually, he had to slip up.

Close to three in the morning, just as she was about to take her chances fighting, the young detective stood up and walked through the back door of a nearby building, possibly to use the washroom. Not wasting a single second, Erma raced passed the sleeping detective and guard dog; reaching the wooden door, she crouched down and took a hairpin to pick at the lock, quietly praying she was faster than the detective. Her heart jumped as she heard the silent click of the lock giving way. Quietly, she opened the door and entered, closing the door just enough to make it appear closed from the outside. Carefully, she crept through the dark cell, feeling along the walls of the prisoner while her eyes adjust to the darkness.

After several minutes, her eyes adjusted and she managed to make out basic shapes; finding her freedom-ticket lying in a corner in the fetal position. "Hey, wake up." She whispered, nudging him wither foot, only get a groan in response. Again, she nudges him, a little harder this time.

"Hey, get up. Hey will kill you if you don't." the urgency in her voice grew; she knew the young detective would return at any minute. The slight kick to the leg must have worked, as the man before she stirred, turned, propped himself upon one elbow, and looked up at her.

"Where…am…I?" he asked in a groggy voice while rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"In the prison on Ceart. I don't know why, but that does not matter. I'll help you escape if you help me get off this island."

Still confused and in pain, the young man before her nodded his head. With a huge smile on her lips, Erma grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him to his feet, sealing the deal. Carefully, Erma peeked out the door and sighed in relief to see that the young detective had not yet returned. With a firm hold on the man's arm, Erma rushed out the door and into the night, letting the door shut itself. Just as they turned the corner of the City Hall, the young detective returned to his post, never once noticing the unlocked door.

With a firm hold on the man's arm, Erma ran through the sleeping streets; her heart raced and her cheeks stung from the smile of eminent freedom. Past the City Hall, down Crooks street, past her home and the harbormaster booth, and onto the small sailing ship; within ten minutes, Ceart grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Only once she was sure they would not be spotted, did Erma light a lantern that hung by a hook on the mast. "That was close, did you see that detective showing up just as we rounded the corner?" she gasped and turned to fully look at her escape partner.

For a moment, her heart skipped when she finally saw whom she escaped with; his high cheekbones, fine skin, dark eyes, and deep blue hair. She had escaped with the most handsome man she had ever met. "Well, what is your name?"

"Flinn…, what is yours?"

"I'm Erma Scott."

"Why did you help me?"

"I have planned my escape for years and needed a final ingredient. Your ship was my key off the island, but I needed someone to sail it who would not rat me out to my father." She leaned against the mast, playing with a stray strand of her green hair, "So, why did you attack my dad?"

"I am looking for my girlfriend. I came to Ceart from Cina, your father send me to Mormonta, but she was not there; the Harbor Master there told me that no ship was scheduled to arrive, so I came back. As for why I attacked him…I was in a dark place and lost my mind for a moment. I apologize for my actions."

Erma felt crushed, the first good-looking man in her life and he was unavailable. "It is alright, he was a drunkard anyway," she muttered, "So, he did not tell you where she went?"

"Sadly, no. I am unsure if she even reached Ceart."

"You know, I think I know where she went." Said Erma, inwardly grinning when she noticed Flinn perking up. "He returned home after your first appearance and explained how a young woman paid him handsomely if he promised to hide her true destination. Being the daughter of a harbor master, I think I could help you find her." Erma became giddy at the thought of lying herself on an adventure with him.

"Are you serious, where did she go?" he asked, grabbing hold of Erma's shoulders and giving her a light shake. "Please, you have to tell me."

"Yeah, according to Papa, she went to Romance. Her plan is probably to travel to several islands and pay the masters off to erase her tracks. Since I can get behind the scenes, if the next master lies to you, I can get the truth out for you. All I ask in return is that you take me along on your journey until you find her. That would give me enough time to learn how to sail and find my own way around the ocean." She stuck out her hand for him to shake, "Do we have a deal?"

Without hesitation, Flinn shook it; finally, his luck began to turn.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but why were you arrested? I mean, you are not the first to threaten my father."

At this, Flinn's insides clenched together; he had no idea how to answer that question without frightening the young woman to death. To steady himself, he took a deep breath and released her shoulders. "In all honesty, and I hope this doesn't frighten you off your thirst for adventure. I think I am being framed for murder. Before I came to Ceart and Cina, I was on Mendocino where I encountered an elderly couple and their granddaughter; they let me stay at their home for the night and when I woke up the next day, their granddaughter was dead. She had been brutally murdered."

Shocked, Erma stood there leaning against the mast, her eyes as wide as a deer's. The thought of traveling with a potential killer frightened her, but part of her wanted to believe him. Looking at him, she did not get the gut sense that she was in danger, nor that this man was dangerous; plus, if it were true and he was being framed for a crime he did not committee, then she might just have saved his life. Surely, if allowed to return him to Mendocino for judgment, he would have been executed and the true killer would go unpunished.

XXXXXXXXXX

On the train, Alisea sat in frustration; there was little to do, but wait until she reached Saoirse. With the limited, flickering light provided by a row of lanterns spanning down the center of the wagon, she attempted to take her mind off her hunger by reading some of the book Lidia had given her. After a few pages, she regretted picking it up. It could take her mind off her hunger, but at the cost of frying her mind. Lidia's father, Manfred Van Hansing, might be a famous writer, but to Alisea, he was a long-winded loon with no plot or reason behind his writing. His latest book, Ramblings of a Man to God, solidified her opinion.

 _Excerpt Chapter One: "Why is it that man though gifted with speech and wisdom, fool heartedly jumps at any opportunity to throw himself into the abyss? Is it his innate and primal need to know everything or is it that, after accomplishing everything there is to do, he sees no further purpose than to destroy himself and anything within his immediate vicinity? If given the choice to educate or eradicate a wild savage, man would lean towards eradication of his fellow human and claim it his "God Given Right" to do so; yet, if asked, God would claim all life to be precious._

 _The logical conclusion is that man is wrong and has sinned, but how can man have sinned, if he had been created to fear all that is unknown and foreign to him; making the creation and self-destruction of man, a default mechanism of God's most glorious machine. If man were to meet his creator he might ask why, but what would his answer be? That, yes man was created to fear the unknown, yet seek it out and that destruction was simply a by-product. That man was created to fear the unknown for his own safety, yet being his greatest creation has the choice to go down the path of violence or stay on the path of riotousness…."_

The hypothetical conversation between a man and God about why man kills was not as thrilling as Manfred might have hoped for; if anything, it gave the appearance that the author wrote down whatever ideas came to his head while drunk in bed To Alisea, the answer was simple: Man kills what is unknown for the fear of being killed himself; she had no doubt that if she spoke her thoughts to Mr. Van Hansing, that he would laugh and claim her to be too simple-minded to understand his works. Luckily, the book did take Alisea's mind off her aching stomach for it caused her to fall asleep within the first five chapters.


	13. Chapter 13

The next day, Alisea awoke early at the first rays of dawn with a crick in her neck, a clammy feeling over her face and hands, a hollow feeling in her stomach, and a bizarre aching sensation in her upper legs. Rubbing the numbness from her eyes, she decides that sitting for the better part of the journey would be more pain then good and began to pace down the center of the wagon. Pacing from one end of the vacant wagon to the other, she wondered what she should do; she made up mind to stay on the train until it reached Saoirse, but what to do until then? The book is as bland as wheat toast and there wasn't a soul around, not that she wished to speak with anyone. She caught her reflection in the wagon's windows and what she saw was not something she would want to talk to. Her dress was dirty and wrinkled, her skin oily and stiff, her hair stuck out in wild directions, and her eyes gave her the overall appearance of being tired and lifeless. Stretching her back, she thought about going to the washroom. Making her way to the back of the train, hopping over the gap between them; on her way, she came across the dining wagon and, luckily, nothing had been prepared yet. At the very back of the train, she was greeted by two eggshell-colored doors; one held a small percaline image of a boy with his back turned to the viewer and his trousers around his ankles urinating into a chamber pot. The other image was of a little girl, with her bloomers around her ankles sitting on a chamber pot.

For a moment, Alisea stood in front of the doors, wondering what would motivate someone to choose this for bathroom markings. Shaking her head, she went to the girl's room; she had no energy to think too deeply about it. Damping the edge of her apron, she began to wipe the grimy feeling from her face and neck. Though his lightened her mood a little, she still felt as though she had been dragged through a pot of baking grease. After dousing her face in the water and drying it with her sleeves, she slowly trots back to her suitcase. Other than reading the book, there was nothing to do but pace from one end of the wagon to the other.

Pacing back and for, back and forth, and so on, she began to regret starting her journey without anything to occupy her time. When she was a captain, there was no shortage of chores and problems to do and solve, but now she was a common civilian and there were no chores or problems to solve until she reaches Saoirse. While pacing, she took up the book again and opened it to a random page.

"And thus we, the fool, follow the fool of Dante. Who are we to assume to know the panorama of hell. Look at any book on religion and you find the same. Fire, brimstone, sorrow; all the same with different words. However, who are we to say what it looks like or that exists at all. We, man and women alike, cherry-pick our views on such things; yet, should you choose to deny the existence of hell, all descend on you like the plagues of Egypt…."

Again, Alisea could barely find the willpower to keep her mind on the text. Did it really matter if a hell existed? Couldn't the people simply choose for themselves what they wished to believe? Sure there had been conflicts over religion in the past, but this was an age of enlightenment where such useless trifle is considered barbaric. Where did the author live to think of such a book and why did he think anyone would read it? Why was Lydia so adamant that this text would become a bestseller? Perhaps Alisea did not have the mind to comprehend it or Lydia had mistaken her for a like thinking individual. Again she opened to a random page.

"We riot and gather in army numbers to demand freedom and rights. We promise our fellow man a brighter future of equal existence and peace. Yet, the moment our views are challenged, we set aside those promises and take up our sword once more. Instead of meeting on even ground; we return to our premortal ancestors and fling our feces at each other from the furthest part of the battleground while completely ignoring the civilian population trapped between the two forces, who now drown in the fecal matter of each side."

Again, she wondered why the author was so concerned about the views of others. Would not that make him as bad as the other opposing forces? Sure, for every opinion, there is an extreme, yet pointing out and fighting these polar opposing forces simply seemed useless. Everyone knew the different variations of outlooks on life.

This was when Alisea froze in her step and mentally slapped herself for not being able to see the purpose of this book. Lydia never mentioned that the book was for a certain audience; this book was meant for the masses. Though bland as toast and worded as though an escapee from the looney-bin had composed it, this book had completed what it was meant to do. This book was meant to make its' reader thing of the world around them and think about it. Was the author right for pointing out the obvious? Would any other reader have come to the same conclusion? Alisea doubted each question. She understood that the world was, simply, too diverse to come to the same conclusion. She was not even sure if the book would have been this obvious to other readers. With a light smile, Alisea closed the book and locked it in her suitcase. For now, this book was her most prized possession next to her mother's earrings and necklace. Still smiling, Alisea sat down and looked out the wagon window. For a moment, she smiled at the vast forest landscape outside, but that ended when her eyes were drawn to movement on the seat beside her.

Beside her sat Flinn.

In shock, she spun her head around to look at his face to face, but when she did he was not there. The wagon was empty except for her. She scanned the entire area around her to make sure he was not hiding from her in plain sight, but she was alone. Alisea returned her attention to the reflection in the window, and there he was. She rubbed her eyes, thinking it was a phenomenon of sleep deprivation. Yet, there he was, smiling at her. With a sight, she responded to the reflection.

"Why are you here?"

"You let me into your mind."

"Why would you come to my mind now? You could have been in my mind days ago. Why are you here now? Are you just here because of how hungry and tired I am?"

"I am unsure, but aren't you happy that someone is here with you?"

"I would be happy, but why you? I could use an actual person to talk to and not a figment of my imagination."

Well, since I am unsure why I am here, and you have no real person to talk to, why do you think I am here?"

"If I had to guess, you are here because I read this book and considered how people interpret the world differently. However, I have no idea what this has to do with you. I left the academy and that is all."

"You told me you left the academy because of me being in love with Lillian instead of you."

"Well, that is the case, right?"

"I don't know if that is the case. I am just a figment of your imagination. But, may I ask you, are you sure I am in love with Lillian?"

"Of course, I am sure you are in love with her. I saw the two of you kiss."

"Ture, you did see that. Also, if you were wrong and I do not love Lillian, you just left the academy for no reason."

"That is not the only reason I left. I also left because everyone I trust had disappointed me at some point. In less then one year, I experienced two mutinies, I almost died half a dozen times, I have almost caused my crew's death just as much, I got turned into a child, had my mind reversed, and almost got killed by a skeleton while being adopted by a ghost. Of everything I have just told you, what makes anyone think I would make a good captain?" she choked back tears as the old memories resurfaced. "I don't have a single decent friend in this world that would encourage me to go on."

"But being a piratess made you happy."

"A lot of things make me happy, but I have to be real about life. I could return to the academy, spend years going through the schooling, and gather a new crew every few months whenever someone decides to mutiny, or I could find another life."

"A life that does not make you as happy as sailing the ocean."

"I'll find something that makes me happy."

"Will you find someone that makes you happy?"

"Eventually, I will."

"As happy as I could make you?"

"You are not the real Flinn and the real Flinn does not love me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, you never said or did anything that showed you cared for me."

"I saved your life a few times and we almost kissed." He attempted to smile at her.

"Almost does not count and you only saved me because you have this personal code of honor."

"Perhaps, my effort to uphold the code means that I love you."

"Do you honestly think I am that gullible?"

"You just told me that the only reason I am here right now is that that book made you think of how other people intemperate the world around them. What if, despite being brave and adventurous, I was too afraid to admit how much I cared for you. Say, I was afraid to tell you; afraid you would laugh and tell me you only tricked me.:

"If that is the case, then why did you not try to stop me from leaving the academy? You could have told me you did not want to lose a friend."

"Perhaps I was too stunned to tell you, or I thought it would make you happy to leave the academy."

"Well, I guess we will never know, since you are not really here, and I am days away from the academy." She then rubbed her eyes free from the forming tears. "Now, go away." When she looked at the reflection again, he was gone. Sitting there in the empty wagon, Alisea fought the bitter lump forming in her throat.

XXXXX

Flinn awoke in the early morning hours on the floor of the captain's cabin with a stiff neck, aching back, and throbbing head. For a long moment, he did not remember why he was on the floor or why his head was throbbing. Blinking the blur from his eyes, he looked around the room and froze when he saw a figure lying in the hammock. For a moment, he did not remember what happened the previous day and thought it was Alisea who lay in the bed. With a beaming smile, he got up and approached the bed; it was not until he stood by the bedside that he remembered it couldn't be her. Slowly, the previous day's events came crawling back to his mind. He remembered how he broke down in front of Mormonta's Harbor Master, how he returned to Ceart only to be assaulted, ending with his escape on the Maria with Erma. In disappointment, he looked down at the green haired girl laying in his bed. He remembered how he offered her the bed since she helped him escape. Still, he desperately wished it were Alisea laying there. The more he lacked her presence in life, the more hollow and depressed he became.

Finding nothing keeping him below deck, he walked out into the rising sun with the hope that it would lighten his spirits. It failed at lifting his spirits, but he welcomed the sensation of the warm sun soothe his aches and pains. With a sigh of relief, he stretched his sleeping muscles and looked out at the vast ocean ahead of him. The romance was his next destination. He sends a short prayer to the gods that she would be there. He desperately wished she were there; he wished she had missed her next ship or run out of funds and got stranded on Romance. Yet, he knew she would not be there; he knew in his soul that she had moved on to another island. Each day, he felt the distance between them growing further and further apart. Despite this, he held on to the hope of finding her one day; in the meantime, his solace was his nightly interaction with her. Each night he dreamt of her, with each dream becoming more and more vivid and realistic. In his last dream, he felt her weight on his chest and heard her voice telling him how much she loved him. In this dream, his world was complete.

Lost in memory of his dream, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. Spinning around, he was surprised to make eye contact with Erma. "Oh, good morning Erma. Did you sleep well last night?"

"Not really, I am not used to the bed moving underneath me when I sleep." Replied Erma, rubbing her eyes and stretching as far as she could; arching her back and hoping Flinn would notice her curves. Sadly, he did not.

"We are about three hours away from Romance; since you explained that Alisea attempts to pay off the Harbor Masters to hide her tracks, they are probably keeping an eye out for a man fitting my description. When we get there, could you ask the Harbor Master for me if they saw a woman fitting her description?"

Erma felt crushed, yet, she knew she could use this situation in her favor. All she had to do was lie and keep him going; eventually, he would fall for her. "Sure, that sounds like a plan, but may I ask why you are after her?"

"I man a great mistake. I should never have let her go. She thinks I am in love with another woman, but I love her. I have loved her since the first day I met her. She is so brave, intelligent, trusting, kind, brave, adventurous, mature…there is nothing about her I hate. All I can think of is her and how I must win her back. I dream about her every night."


End file.
